Aftershocks
by StainedGlassSkyscrapers
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts took many lives, and left many scars. In the wake of tragedy, one young witch searching for answers and healing finds a new beginning on a path that could lead to her ruin, or her salvation. A prequel to my upcoming Harry Potter/Avengers crossover story 'Not a Hero'.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** **To be perfectly honest, I find disclaimers a little tedious and condescending, but I understand the necessity. So here is my official disclaimer for the entire story: I do not own Harry Potter. Get it? Got it? Good.**

 **WARNING:** **Graphic descriptions of battle including violence and gore, and some inflammatory language.**

* * *

In all its centuries of existence, the Room of Requirement had never been so required, and even though in one of its magical incarnations it housed objects of great power and darkness that needed constant guardianship, the Room's current occupation was the noblest it had ever served: a sanctuary for Hogwarts students seeking refuge.

The Room had gone beyond what any witch or wizard had ever tried to challenge it with before, servicing the individual needs of nearly fifty children. As all children possess an innate magical sense of curiosity and creativity beyond any adult, the students were more suited to the application of the Room's magic by doing what many former Hogwarts explorers had strangely not thought of: they simply asked the Room for what they needed. Granted, there were many things it could not do, as it was limited to the magical reserves of Hogwarts itself and it could not feed upon the magical energy of the people inside it without express permission, but there were daily occurrences of unexplainable magic that covered all levels of miraculousness. One such miracle had happened early on during this dark year of Hogwarts history.

The magic of the Room meant that it could only ever be one room, which prevented more convenient living arrangements for the students there, but once the populace had reached twenty, the group had awoken one morning to find the Room as big as the Great Hall (the Room had anticipated the unfortunate need for more space) and sectioned off with long curtains, that contained hammocks to sleep in. Each curtain was embroidered with names, as the Room knew which students would like to live together. The curtained sections provided some much needed privacy, a simple luxury and dignity the students had sorely been missing.

One such section was reserved unsurprisingly for Parvati and Padma Patil, twin girls that had lived in separate dormitories for six years, but the Room (and nearly everyone else) had known that as inseparable as they usually were, they needed each other now more than ever.

Padma and Parvati were pure of blood and therefore did not _need_ to hide in the Room of Requirement like some of their classmates, and indeed had held out for a very long time coexisting with some of their more cruel and ignorant classmates and teachers, but solidarity and the increasing fear of personal safety had driven them to dwell amongst their refugee friends.

One night, the sisters were reading quietly in their 'dumble' (a second-year Hufflepuff had coined the term, explaining that calling the curtained-off sections 'rooms' was too confusing as they used that word only to refer to The Room, which worked both inside the headquarters and out in the more dangerous public places where listening hostile ears wouldn't recognize that as being meaningful. 'Dumble' also fit with the theme of honoring Dumbledore's legacy, and quoth the Hufflepuff, "it's really quite fun to say"), but Padma couldn't focus. Truth be told, she had spent so many years reading to the background noise of Parvati's endless chatter that she still wasn't used to peace and quiet when Parvati was around.

But her sister had developed an oddly secretive scholarly habit lately, sneaking into the library during the day to copy scrolls and then spending the evenings poring over them and taking copious notes. Padma had asked more than once what her sister was reading, but Parvati had laughingly dismissed her twin's questions, saying, "I don't want to have to repeat a whole bloody year of school when this whole Dark Lord thing is finally over, so I'm trying to keep up with what would have been our homework. Honestly, Padma, you're a 'Claw. Shouldn't you have cottoned on to this idea before me?"

Padma reluctantly believed her sister - after all, Parvati wasn't the only one doing such a thing, many groups of students had succumbed to the boredom of being locked in the Room for hours at a time and resorted to schoolwork - but two things kept her suspicions alive: Parvati had _always_ asked Padma for help with every single piece of homework since they were first years, and she hadn't asked Padma one single question ever since her first clandestine library run this year.

Also, Padma privately wondered if this 'Dark Lord thing' would _ever_ be over, and Parvati had never been particularly optimistic either.

Padma was not a very confrontational girl, and this hardly seemed like something to bother about, so she left it alone. But it was still awfully strange to study in silence with her sister.

Tonight, Parvati seemed particularly absorbed by the scroll she had, so focused on it she seemed almost paralyzed. Padma kept glancing up to check and make sure her sister was blinking or even breathing, and after rereading the same page of her novel for a fifth time she finally gave up with a sigh and decided to give her suspicions one last chance.

"Vati?" She asked tentatively.

The childhood nickname caught her sister's attention immediately and she jolted upright so fast she surprised Padma, who flinched in response. Parvati stared at Padma blankly for a moment before she blinked and her body relaxed. She smiled at Padma. "Yes, Addie?" She answered teasingly.

Padma grinned at the sound of her own nickname. "Whatcha reading?" She asked casually.

Parvati hesitated for a long moment, and Padma heard paranoia's frantic whispers in the back of her mind. Then her sister shrugged and turned the scroll towards her slightly. Padma stared at the page in utter confusion. "Is that… Hindi?" It was the twins' first language, but they hadn't spoken it in years. Upon enrollment at Hogwarts, their parents had impressed the importance of cultural adaptation upon their daughters so they would be more easily accepted into 'polite society'. They were only allowed to speak proper English from then on.

Blood status may be the most obvious prejudice in magical society, but that does not mean xenophobia and racism do not exist.

Parvati laughed lightly. "I know, it's a bit of a trip into the past." Padma nodded, still confused. Parvati sighed, her smile now tinged with melancholy and nostalgia. "I suppose… with everything that's happened, I miss how things used to be, when we lived in India and didn't know the words 'blood traitor.'"

Padma didn't know how to respond. "I… thought you were proud to be a blood traitor." She said finally.

Parvati immediately shook her head, "I am! I really am. I wouldn't change anything right now - no, that's not true. I obviously would change more than a few things, first things first getting rid of Old Moldy, and all his nasty little friends." Padma giggled a bit nervously at her sister's flippant description. "I mean," Parvati clarified, "that I know we're making the right choice, being in Dumbledore's Army. It's just..."

Padma waited.

Parvati sighed again. "Well, we don't know what happened to Mother and Father. Best case scenario, they were banished back to India near the beginning of all this nonsense, and worst case…" She didn't need to finish that thought. "I just miss home." Parvati said softly.

Padma nodded in agreement, even though she was a bit surprised because Parvati had not referred to India as their home for nearly a decade. She reached out and took her sister's hand. "Let's make a pact." She said with a smile. Parvati tilted her head curiously. "Let's promise that when all this is over, we'll go back to India."

Parvati smiled back. "Okay." She hooked pinkies with Padma. "I promise."

"I promise." Padma echoed, letting this small wish flare within her like a floating candle and keep the encroaching darkness and dread at bay.

There was a commotion outside of their dumble. The girls exchanged a confused look until they heard Seamus' distinctive shout. Parvati was on her feet, wand out, rushing through the curtain at the sound of her friend's distress. Padma followed close behind.

They came upon a gathering of the DA underneath the portrait hole that led to Aberforth's tavern. Parvati pushed to the front of the group and gasped. Padma peered around her sister and could not contain her own shock. There, standing next to Neville's bruised, beaming face, was none other than Harry Potter.

Everyone was talking excitedly over one another as Neville tried to calm everyone down so Harry could speak. Parvati joined the cacophony, but Padma stayed quiet. Her eyes narrowed on the prodigal Chosen One. The boy was dirty and messy and fierce, like the stray dogs Padma remembered seeing my roam the streets of Indian cities, more wild than tame. Harry had always been lanky, but now he was downright malnourished and behind his crooked glasses, those distinctive green eyes darted around anxiously. He flinched at every new voice.

As everyone else grew more and more hopeful at the return of their fearless leader, Padma felt her heart sink and that small candle flame begin to flicker. That was not the face of a savior. That was the face of just another scared runaway kid desperate for safety and answers, overwhelmed by the pressure of having everyone's hopes carried on his shoulders.

By chance his gaze landed on her, and whatever he saw in her face caused a brief moment of pure honesty in his. For one second, Padma saw all of the torment and despair and grief she felt multiplied a hundredfold in him and she could not bear his burden. She looked away.

She looked away, and met Parvati's beautiful brown eyes, burning with passion and determination and hope. And Padma felt that little candle inside her go out.

* * *

Mere hours later, Padma and Parvati were standing in the ruined courtyard of Hogwarts, surrounded by fire. Shattering remnants of magic in every color imaginable and some hues never seen before streaked above their heads and in between bodies in a savage dance, an aurora borealis of death.

A witch with wild hair and wilder eyes suddenly appeared in front of them. She smiled with ruined teeth, and Padma immediately knew the unsettling face from newspapers and wanted posters. "Bellatrix Lestrange." She felt rather than heard her and Parvati's shared whisper of recognition. The woman's insane gaze sharpened as she locked onto her new victims.

"Patils!" She cackled. "Blood traitors! _Crucio!_ "

Padma jerked to the side as Parvati yanked them both out of the way of the curse. A fingertip of lightning touched her elbow like a butterfly's kiss and then she was enveloped by a pain worse than anything she thought possible. Talons of fire and blood raked up and down her arm. Dimly she heard Parvati screaming her name, then Bellatrix's, then shouting spell after spell.

" _Diffindo! Reducto! Stupefy!"_

Her twin must have sufficiently distracted Bellatrix because the pain ceased in a moment and Padma found herself struggling to stand without remembering that she fell. Pain-drugged, she groggily managed to focus on the terrifying reality of her sister fighting the most dangerous witch alive. Fighting, and losing. Whatever element of surprise Parvati had attacked with was gone; Bellatrix was firing off spell after spell and Parvati was barely doing more than dodging. Green light ruffled Parvati's long braid and Padma lunged forward, shrieking her sister's name and it became a spell as well as a cry, pure emotion surging through her body forged into a bolt of red light shot from her wand. Bellatrix was forced to break the offensive and evade Padma's magic.

Then Parvati was back on her feet, none the worse for wear except looking rattled by her near-miss, her warm and real hand grabbing Padma's and holding tight. Instant and powerful relief flooded Padma, before morphing into determined rage. Bellatrix Lestrange tried to kill _her sister,_ and she was only a few feet away trying to do it again. Suddenly everything was clear and sharp and desperate and without thought. There was only action.

Padma launched herself forward and her wand seemed to melt into her hand and become an extension of herself. She didn't need words, the spells streamed from her wand smooth as silk. Parvati immediately twisted her body to accommodate Padma and they became two parts of a deadly whole, a perfectly synchronized battle dance. There was no time to plan or rationalize or strategize, not with Bellatrix's leering face snarling at them from barely a meter away. Padma followed her Gryffindor sister's lead, a secondary reaction to Parvati's instinctive bravery.

They might have been fighting for seconds or hours; the passage of time was irrelevant. Then one of Bellatrix's spells hit a large chunk of debris next to the twins and it shattered like glass.

(During the long, tense days and nights of the past year hiding in the Room of Requirement, Padma had fallen victim to the morbid contemplation of what death would be like. Books and Muggle films always made it seem like it would happen in soundless slow motion, every detail in sharp, graphic relief.)

But reality does not happen in slow motion. What came next happened at the exact same pace as the rest of the day, impossibly fast and increasingly horrifying.

Padma barely had time to dodge the falling rubble and feel something hard and sharp roll under her foot before she stumbled and fell in front of Parvati, who stopped casting a spell to grab for her.

All Padma saw was her sister's big brown eyes before her vision was invaded by a pulsing blaze of terrible violet light. She instinctively reached for her magic and could incomprehensibly sense Parvati doing the same.

There was a surge of energy between them, and the violet light turned a bright, blinding white.

One horrible, excruciating heartbeat of sheer terror.

Then the next thing Padma knew, she was blinking in shock at the very real sight of people duelling around her against the backdrop of her destroyed school courtyard. She registered a savage, ugly pain in her side and that something had her hand in a vice-like grip.

"Pad...ma…"

She looked down and saw that it was a blood-covered Parvati who was holding her hand, while a moaning and cursing Bellatrix lay writhing on the ground a few feet away.

Everything stopped.

Padma was utterly paralyzed by the sight of her beautiful sister bleeding to death in front of her.

Then Parvati said her name again. "Pad...Padma…"

The world started up again, the sound of her own thundering heartbeat momentarily drowning out the sounds of battle around them. "Parvati! Oh, no, no, no. Oh, gods. Oh, Parvati, no." Padma belatedly realized the shrill, panicked babble was coming from her and tried to change her tone. "It's okay, Parvati, you're going to be okay. I'm going to get help, I'm going to heal you, you'll be okay…" She tried to let go of her sister's hand, the one still holding her wand frantically casting every healing spell she could think of, but nothing would staunch the bleeding.

Parvati squeezed her hand tighter. "Padma...stop…"

"What? No, no, I can't stop, I have to _save_ you, damn it, you're going to be _fine -"_

"Padma." Her twin's weak but firm voice stopped her tear-slurred babbling. She looked at those gorgeous brown eyes that were full of determination and sadness and acceptance. "I'm not... going to be... fine."

Padma furiously blinked her eyes free of tears so she could focus on Parvati's face. " _No."_ She gasped, the word ripping its way out of her throat in a sob.

"Padma." Her sister stopped her again. "We're both... hurt. But I'm not… going… to… make it." another raw noise of denial came from Padma, but Parvati pressed on "But… you… _are_. Because… you… must… _fight._ "

Padma shook her head. "No, I can't, not without you, _please_ Parvati. I'm not brave, I'm not the Gryffindor, you are!" Fresh tears spilled out of her eyes at Parvati's sweet smile. "I need you."

Parvati coughed and blood speckled her lips. She smiled weakly. "You _will_ fight… Padma… I saw it. I saw you… fight."

Confusion twisted its way into Padma's fear. "What?"

Parvati's eyes filled with a sudden strength. "I... love... you... Padma." Then in a move so fast and sudden Padma was knocked off balance, Parvati grabbed Padma's hand that was holding the wand and drove it into her blood-soaked abdomen with a wail of pain. Padma barely had time to gasp in shock before Parvati gasped out, "Sorry about this," and stabbed her own wand into Padma's side.

Searing, incomprehensible pain knifed through Padma's body and she collapsed, dimly aware of Parvati beginning a stuttering, gasping chant of odd syllables that sounded nothing like Latin.

Suddenly, miraculously, the pain began to lessen. Padma now had the strength to turn her head and was utterly dumbstruck by what she saw: beams of bright light, shimmering golden and rose were shining out of the spot where Padma's wand was shoved into her sister, stretching and twisting until Parvati was wrapped in a cocoon of light.

Then the beams began to concentrate into one spiral that arched over Padma and touched down where Parvati's wand was piercing her already wounded side. There was instant, blessed relief, and in a moment of painless ecstasy Padma's logical brain realized what her sister was doing.

She was using her own magic, sacrificing her life, to save Padma.

"N...no…" Padma reached for the wand to break the connection, to do _something,_ when a bone-chilling shriek sounded nearby.

"How… _dare…_ you… _blood-traitor whores..._ try to… _kill… me_!" There was a high-pitched, mad cackle. " _Avada Kedavra!"_

As the rose-gold light reached blinding intensity, a bolt of violent green magic struck Parvati's magic. There were two screams of pain, one gasping and raw from Padma, and one shocked and shrill from close by. The green line abruptly darkened into rich emerald, tainted dull gray like stone and a sickening, oily black sheen. The strange ribbon was sucked into the rose-gold vortex and then Padma's vision began to dance with black spots.

Padma heard Parvati say _I love you,_ but in her delirium she didn't know if Parvati said it out loud or if she only imagined it.

There was a moment of terrible, complete blackness that melted into a glimmer of gold, then faded into nothing.

Padma again slowly became aware that she was still alive, through the pulsing agony in her side, the feeling that something was crushing her chest, and something horribly, lifelessly still held in her hand. She desperately wanted to talk to Parvati, filled with the desperate but fading feeling that her sister might still be alive, but she couldn't even manage to open her eyes.

Padma distantly heard someone struggling for breath. " _What did you do to me?"_ A shaking, rasping scream that was barely above a whisper.

The sound of pounding feet. "Lestrange, leave those two, they're dead! The Dark Lord calls for the death of all blood traitors and mudbloods, not just a pair of immigrant child brides!"

"Don't tell me what the Dark Lord wants!" The rasping voice sounded a bit stronger. "I just… need a moment."

Someone laughed and it sounded like they were choking. "Well while you… _need a moment,_ I'm off to take care of that dirty Weasley brood once and for all! Then maybe I'll be the Dark Lord's favorite, and you'll still be here -"

"Avada kedavra." The killing words were uttered casually. There was a thud. Then a long, slow, rattling breath. "I've been waiting to kill Molly Weasley for a long time… I think that time has come." A pause, and Padma was dully aware of the person shuffling closer. She held what little breath she still had in her lungs and kept her eyes shut. " _Patils._ Blood traitor brats. Good riddance." There was a small, weird sound and then Padma felt something wet hit her face.

After that, the sound of quickening steps faded along with a sharp, manic giggling.

Padma concentrated hard on opening her mouth and trying to remember how to use her tongue to form words. "Par...va...ti…"

Silence.

Padma fought the rising despair and tried again. "Parvati…" Still nothing. Her whisper faded into near-silence in her desperation. "Parvati… _please_ …"

Padma focused all her energy on opening her eyes and she slowly turned her head, feeling sharp pieces of gravel scrape against her face. The wand protruding from her side clashed against another larger piece of rock next to her as she moved and dislodged it, the wand slipping out of the wound and clattering softly to the ground. Padma barely noticed the rush of blood and pain, transfixed by the brutal, impossible truth lying inches from her face.

Parvati lay next to her, more calm and serene than she had ever been in life, eyes closed and face turned towards her twin, smiling gently. She was dead, and all Padma could do was lay there, tears slowly falling from her eyes as she whispered her sister's name over and over, feeling a darkness growing inside of her that she had never felt before.

There was no convenient fade into unconsciousness for Padma, like she had read about in countless novels. She lay there in excruciating spasms of pain for what felt like hours, unable to move or think or comprehend anything beyond her agony, and the knowledge that her twin sister's dead body lay next to her, her lifeless hand still clasped in Padma's, Bellatrix Lestrange's spit drying on her cheek.

Her vision did fade in and out but her pain grounded her in sharp, cruel reality. She could see blurred shapes and shadows moving around her, and more than once a foot stepped carelessly upon her. Every now and then she thought she glimpsed vaguely familiar features or flashes of striped school scarves and ties. She knew in some part of her mind that was still capable of coherent thought that was hiding behind a mental wall from the unfathomable pain still rocking through her, that they must think she was dead. She wanted to call out for help, but that part of her stopped herself, knowing that she might attract attention from the casters of the malevolent green ribbons of light.

So she lay there, and despite desperate prayers to whatever deity that might be listening for blessed sleep or death, she waited in waking pain.

At long last, the colors faded from the air and all that was left was dust.

* * *

 **Author's Note: While perusing the Harry Potter fanfiction genre, I became intrigued with the creative possibilities and challenges of using a canon minor character like Padma and putting her center stage. But I also wanted to exercise my plot development muscles, so I'm taking my Padma and sending her on a journey of my creation that goes deeper than JK Rowling's "all was well" and explores more of the aftereffects of the Battle of Hogwarts, emotional and otherwise, with a dash of drama and adventure.**

 **I hope you liked this first chapter and that I didn't traumatize you too much so you stick around for the rest of the story. I'm excited about it and I hope you are too! Review and let me know what you think.**

 **P.S. Sorry about Parvati. It's necessary for the plot, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, according to my research, Parvati was never confirmed as surviving the BoH, but Padma was. So this is technically canon.**


	2. Chapter 2

It was the feeling of hands, warm and strong and alive, grabbing her around the biceps and roughly yanking her upright that pulled Padma out of a pain-induced delirium. A most unpleasant sensation knifed through her abdomen and then there was a horrible strangled sound that she realized was coming from her.

The hands released her instantly and the resulting jolt of pain had Padma gasping as her eyes flew open. "What the - she's still alive!" A blurry flesh-colored blob entered her field of vision.

Rapid footsteps grew louder as the others returned to her side.

"What?"

"Are you barking?"

"That's not funny, Smith."

Padma recognized the first voice as belonging to Zacharias Smith and though she had no great excess of affection for the boy, her mind grasped that first concrete thread of reality and familiarity and let it anchor her.

"I'm not joking, you tosser." Smith bit out defensively though his lingering shock keeping his usual scornful tone at bay. "She's alive, I swear!"

Padma recognized this as her cue to provide evidence of that and managed another moan. There were more exclamations of shock. "Gods above!" Someone gasped.

Padma wasn't in any state to evaluate her currents belief in any God, above or otherwise, but she did pray that whoever was there would dispense with the all the professions of disbelief and just _help_ her already.

Thankfully, someone else seemed to have the same idea. "Someone alert the healers!" Another voice, a woman, said sharply. More footsteps, running off. There was a murmured spell and a plush cushion of air lifted Padma slowly and carefully off the ground, blessedly relieving pressure from all the wounds Padma had forgotten she had.

Then she stopped lifting as there was resistance. Something was attached to her hand, pulling her down. Something cold and rigid and soft all at the same time.

Padma's eyes snapped open again as reality cruelly ripped open the veil of her memories. " _Parvati_ ," She gasped, and that one name held all the horror and despair that was freezing her blood and squeezing her lungs.

"Check the other girl." The woman commanded.

"Do you really think…" A girl's voice whispered hesitantly. "...All that blood…"

"Hush,Eloise." The woman said warningly. _Eloise Midgen._ Padma distantly remembered the Gryffindor girl. "Just check her please." There was the scrape of shifting gravel as someone crouched in the rubble.

Padma closed her eyes to block out the blinding blue sky, but not before something wet and warm slipped out of the corner of her eye and ran down the side of her face. She already knew what they would say. Parvati, her sister, her twin, her other half, was dead.

"I'm sorry Padma." The woman's voice was quiet and heavy, and it seemed to become some solid thing that pressed on Padma's chest until she couldn't breathe and the pressure pushed more tears past her eyelids. "She's gone."

She already knew that, but hearing it given voice was such a terrible, final thing. Like a hammer slamming down on a nail, shattering Padma's heart around it.

"Bloody hell, look at that." Smith whistled long and low. "Stabbed with her own wand."

Someone gasped, and another swore.

"Wait…" The girl said suddenly. "That's not Parvati's wand. Hers is lighter in color with a wing carved on the handle. I remember because she always used to brag about the craftsmanship."

"Like this one on the ground?" Smith asked carefully, almost sounding afraid.

"...yeah."

Smith spoke again after a moment. "Do you know what Padma's wand looks like?"

"Dark wood, I think. No detailed carvings."

"Like this one, then." Smith said bluntly. There was a beat of silence suddenly charged with something other than grief.

"My god," the girl whispered. "You don't think that -"

"Well what does it look like?" Smith snapped, shrill and harsh and scared. "It looks like Padma murdered her own twin sister by _stabbing her with her wand."_

The weight on Padma's chest was washed away by an electric current of pure and utter shock. Her eyes flew open again, and she opened her mouth but impossibly, no sound would come out even though her entire being resonated with one thought:

 _NO!_

"We don't know what happened. It could have been an accident, or the Imperious curse, or maybe another person did it." The woman said, although a quaver in her voice belied her confidence in that statement. Smith made a noise of disgust. "Right now all we really know is that Parvati is dead but Padma is alive and she needs immediate healing."

"Yeah let's prioritize the needs of a killer over her victim." Smith said cruelly. Padma managed a brief hoarse sound at that.

 _No!_

"Stop it, Zacharias." The woman ordered. "And don't go telling tales, either. Eloise and I will take Padma to the healers, and you… Just cover the body, don't move it yet. Then you can go join another search team."

"Fine." He did not sound like it was fine. "But don't let her get away after she's been healed. She's got a lot to answer for." That hand that had seemed so warm and alive but now felt harsh and unfeeling grabbed Padma's wrist and pulled until she was forced to release Parvati's lifeless hand.

 _No…_

There was nothing to ground her anymore, floating on a spell of sensory deprivation, no pain or life or death. And there was no Parvati.

Padma let herself drift away to a place dark and quiet, and her last thought was that she hoped she never woke up.

* * *

A gentle brush of sensation in the darkness. A soft whisper. _Wake up, Padma._

It couldn't be.

 _Parvati?_

Soft, musical laughter. _Yes, Addie._

A brief shimmer of a shooting star in the darkness. Hope. But it was immediately chased away by the comforting starless sadness. _No, it's not really you. You're dead._

The gentle voice was also sad. _Yes. I am. But that doesn't mean it's not really me._

She would not respond, would not give that cruel hope a foothold in her new painless existence in the black.

 _It's okay if you don't understand yet. You will._ That did sound a lot like Parvati's teasing voice, relishing whenever she got an intellectual leg up on her Ravenclaw sister.

... _Parvati. It's really you!_

Amusement. _Yes, you big dummy._ Then she was serious again. _You have to wake up now, Padma._

Now she knew it was really Parvati, she wanted to stay here even more. _I don't want to._

 _I know. But you can't stay here._

Sadness. Sharp and bitter with truth. _...I know. But I don't want to leave. If I wake up, everything will hurt and you will be dead and I'll be alone._

 _Yes. It will hurt. But you won't be alone._ Suddenly Parvati's soft presence pulsed with something dark and crackling with dangerous energy. _No!_ Parvati shouted.

 _Parvati?_ Padma was suddenly frightened. _What's happening?_ The new energy brushed against her and suddenly Padma was overwhelmed by a feeling that could only be described as standing on the very edge of an abyss in the middle of a windstorm. It was wild and dark and dangerous and… Tempting.

Padma wanted to let herself fall. She wanted to _jump._

 _NO!_ Parvati's voice dragged her away from the edge, sharp and fierce. _You have to wake up NOW, Padma. RIGHT NOW!_

Padma was suddenly _pushed_ back into her own body with a force that made her eyelids fly open and her lungs gasp for air.

The image of her surroundings slammed into her eyes so hard it hurt, there was no gradual awareness. For a second she stared at the high-arching stone ceiling, uncomprehending in her panic, before she abruptly realized where she was with a rush of instinctive comfort and lingering confusion. The hospital wing of Hogwarts. All the emotion swirling inside her slowly subsided; her heartbeat slowed and her ears cleared of ringing to a numbing, echoing quiet.

 _What happened?_

"Padma?"

She turned her head towards the voice. "Parvati…" She tried to say, the name a prayer that clawed its way out of her lungs only to die in the open air as she saw who the voice belonged to.

"No, Padma." Cho Chang said sadly. "It's me, Cho. Parvati's gone."

Padma's eyes closed briefly. "I know." She whispered. The words scrubbed at her throat like sandpaper. "Water, please."

"Oh, um, right." Her normally serene and reserved housemate was immediately flustered as she twisted in her seat, hands fluttering uselessly as she looked for something for Padma to drink. "There's - there's nothing here… sorry Padma."

Padma only gazed at her, feeling something like amusement shimmer through the numbness that was soaking through her bones. "Do you have… your… wand?" She rasped.

Cho blushed prettily, a rosy glow on her pale cheeks. That seemed wrong. Padma frowned at her friend as she transfigured a cup of water with a few murmured spells, her exhausted brain trying to figure out what felt off.

Cho held out the cup towards her, and Padma had to think for a moment before her mind remembered how to make her arms work. She reached for the cup with her hand but froze, suddenly struck by the image of it covered with blood and dust, holding hands with her dead twin. Then logic sliced through the trauma, and she realized something.

"You're clean." She said. Cho did not look like someone who had just been in battle. She was wearing an unwrinkled set of robes and her hair had been brushed, face porcelain-pale and dirt-free as ever. But she was sitting in a slumped position, exhaustion robbing her of the perfect posture she had always been proud of, and her almond-shaped eyes were red-rimmed and lined with dark shadows of sleeplessness.

"What?" Cho asked politely as she helped Padma gain a secure grasp on the cup. Her fingertips were cold and ever-so-slightly trembling. "Oh, wait," Cho lifted her wand and quickly conjured a straw. Padma pursed her lips around it and sipped carefully, then greedily. The water soothed her aching throat, but the relief only brought attention to pain in other places mere water could not cure.

Padma took her time drinking, and tentatively touched the stormcloud-pain in her mind, trying to find that thread of logic to anchor her. "The battle." She finally said, voice clearer and more like herself. It felt better physically, but she almost wished for the ugly hoarse voice. She shouldn't sound like herself when she felt so lost, a body inhabited by shadow rather than soul. "What happened?"

Cho was clearly relieved by this question, something she could actually answer. "We won." She said, triumph shaded by grief. "Harry defeated Voldemort. He killed him. I don't know how..."

"Harry didn't kill him." Another voice, airy and soft like a summer's breeze. Padma turned her head to see another housemate, Luna Lovegood, daintily dancing to her bedside. She felt immediate relief upon seeing the girl alive and safe. They had never been close, but when she had gone missing at the beginning of the school year everyone had been so worried. She may have been dotty, but no one wanted harm to come to her. If harm could come to Luna, who seemed so innocent and untouchable, then no one was safe.

Luna came to a stop very close to Padma's bed, and looked down at her calmly with those strange moon-grey eyes. She smiled gently. "Hello, Padma. I'm very glad to see that you're awake. We're not friends, but I always liked you and I would have been very sad if you died."

Cho made a strangled yelping sound. "Luna!" She gasped.

But impossibly, Padma felt a smile spread across her face. It felt strange and a little bit wrong, but she couldn't help it in the face of Luna's honesty. There was a familiarity in Luna's behavior that was comforting. "Thank you, Luna." She said sincerely. "I'm glad you're okay, too. I was worried when you went missing."

"I was worried sometimes, too." Luna said serenely, as if this admission was no more serious than discussing the weather. "But I shouldn't have been. Harry and Ron and Hermione and Dobby the elf came to save me. They are very brave and kind, and they are my friends." Then she blinked. "Oh, right." She turned her cool gaze to Cho. "Harry didn't kill Voldemort. Voldemort was killed by his own rebounded spell. That's what Harry said, and I believe him. Harry isn't a liar."

"Oh." Cho said thoughtfully. "That does make more sense. Harry isn't the type to kill someone, even Voldemort."

"Yes." Luna agreed. "Harry is good. But good people can kill other people and still be good, I think. It just might be a bit harder than before. Especially if you yourself don't think you are still good."

Luna smiled at Padma when she said this, but Cho glanced uncomfortably away from her, and Padma was suddenly struck by the memory of Zacharias Smith's strident voice saying, _Padma murdered her own twin sister._

Padma felt herself begin to tremble. "No." She whispered, fighting the rising tide of desperation. "I didn't do it." She stared at Cho, who kept glancing at her but couldn't keep her gaze. Tears, hot and stinging, blurred her vision. "Cho, please. I didn't do it."

Cho stood up fast. "I'll go get Madam Pomfrey." She walked away very quickly, hurrying away from the burden of Padma's innocence… or guilt.

Padma watched her go, jaw working but no words coming out. Then she turned to the other girl who would actually meet her eyes. "Luna," She managed before she could not bear to say anymore. _I didn't kill Parvati._

Luna was solemn. "I don't know what happened, Padma." She said, her blunt candor softened with sympathy. "And it doesn't sound very good at all. But I know you, at least a little bit, and I know you loved Parvati very much. I don't think you could kill her."

The quiet belief of this girl that she had never teased but also never defended eased some of the suffocating panic. Padma nodded, blinking back the tears. She fumbled for a minute before she found Luna's hand and squeezed. _Thank you._

Luna gently squeezed back and nodded, understanding.

The feel of someone else, someone _alive_ , holding her hand, who wasn't Parvati, became too much to bear after a moment and Padma let go before she was overcome.

They were silent after that, but it didn't feel oppressive or awkward. Luna's calm presence was comforting; she kept her company without demanding conversation or anything else. She just stood there, close enough to touch if Padma wanted.

Eventually, Padma's drifting thoughts settled on something she couldn't ignore. "Luna." She said quietly. "Who… who didn't… besides Par -" her throat closed, unwilling.

Luna didn't look at her, but her tranquility darkened like a cloud passing over the moon. "Fred Weasley." She said finally, her usually dreamy voice suddenly very heavy. "Lavender Brown. Dennis and Colin Creevey. Marietta Edgecombe. Ernie Macmillan. Professor Lupin and his wife, Auror Tonks." She paused, and Padma held her breath, trying not to dwell on the names and also trying to commit them to memory at the same time. "Some other adults and teachers. Almost all of the younger students were safe in the Room of Requirement."

"That's…" Padma didn't know what it was. 'Good' didn't sound right. Nothing seemed good right now. Padma's thoughts unwilling flew through all the faces she remembered. Fred's laughing grin, always right beside his brother George and Lee Jordan. Lavender's giggling glossed lips and long, pretty curls. Professor Lupin's kind, tired face and his wife's brilliant hair. The Creevey brothers' childish, hopeful faces. Ernie's easy smile and strong arms. Marietta's shy demeanor and big blue eyes.

Parvati's… everything.

Padma had never tried so hard not cry. Her whole being was focused on keeping the grief at bay. When she finally thought she could speak, she managed to ask, "Everyone else… is okay?"

"Everyone else is alive." Luna said with surprising tact. "But I do not think everyone else is okay."

There wasn't much Padma could say to that.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This was originally apart of a longer chapter that quickly got much too long so I had to break it up into more than one chapter. So here's this part, and the next should be soon to follow. I hope this convinces some of you to stick around after that admittedly traumatic first chapter for some of the intrigue and adventure. I've got a lot planned for Padma and I think it will be a good story. See you soon!**

 **P.S. I'm trying to be as canon and well-researched as possible. Almost all of the names I listed as dead are confirmed to have died in the Battle of Hogwarts, except Ernie and Marietta. Those I'm not sure about, but it's not very important to the story so I'm not worried about it. But I wanted to clarify that for any more detail-oriented readers. Okay, that's it. Bye now.**

 **(Remember to follow/favorite/review! I appreciate any and all feedback)**


	3. Chapter 3

Padma was about to doze off when she heard the odd sound that only well-starched skirts can make. Not a swish or a flap; something similar and yet altogether different. Hogwart's resident healer Madam Pomfrey bustled over - there was really no other word for the not-quite parade march that she employed to get around. Quick and purposeful but a touch too matronly to actually be called marching. Healers seemed to be entirely unique creatures, Padma mused. It was rather interesting and perhaps even admirable.

…You know, _besides_ the whole saving lives business.

"Right then, dear, now that you're awake, let's see what we have to deal with here." Madam Pomfrey said briskly, drawing Padma from her increasingly random thoughts. Luna daintily stepped away from the bed, but didn't leave. Another wave of gratitude for the girl washed over Padma and she wished not for the first time that she had been her friend before all of this had happened.

Madam Pomfrey cast a diagnostic spell, and a blanket of soft white light blanketed Padma's body. There were a few spots of color on her body, the largest and darkest of which pooled on her abdomen like an ink stain. Madam Pomfrey prodded gently at the areas and asked Padma general questions about how she was feeling and if this or that hurt. Padma answered as honestly as possible.

Finally Madam Pomfrey waved her wand again and the light disappeared. She straightened up and nodded once. "Quite so. Well, Miss Patil, here's the long and short of it. I have more patients now than I think I have ever had, and what with the all the damage to the school we're a bit low on supplies although we are expecting some more soon. As such I have had to be prudent with my dispensing of medicinal potions. When you were brought in to the hospital wing, your most serious and prominent injury was the puncture wound in your side." The healer paused and pressed her lips together, as if trying to think of how to phrase the next bit of information.

"Given that the… _nature_ of the wound is dark magic, caused first by a curse then exacerbated by more magic of unknown origin, it may never fully heal." Madam Pomfrey informed her matter-of-factly. She paused again, this time clearly waiting for a response from Padma.

Padma nodded slowly, just so Madam Pomfrey would get on with it. She didn't care about her injuries. She was alive, and Parvati was not. Nothing else really seemed to matter.

Madam Pomfrey gave her a searching look before speaking again. "After repairing the wound itself as well as I could, I administered a blood replenishing potion for the blood loss. Then I gave you a Dreamless Sleep potion to allow your magic to recover from the trauma… what is it, dear? Something to say?"

Padma was frowning. "But I…" The words escaped her before she wanted to, and Madam Pomfrey's shrewd gaze compelled her finish. "But I had a dream."

A soft tendril of… something, at the back of her mind, whispering, _that doesn't mean it's not really me…_

Madam Pomfrey looked sympathetic. "That's impossible, Miss Patil. I am very exact in my measurements; I gave you the perfect dosage. You did not dream."

Padma was aware of Luna's curious gaze and quickly nodded in agreement. But the question rose up in her mind: if it wasn't a dream, then what happened while she was asleep?

Madam Pomfrey continued. "You will have to come back for some magical therapy for a few weeks so I may monitor the progression of healing. Or you will have to go to St. Mungo's, I'm not sure how life will proceed at the start of our society's… healing, for lack of a better word. Is that acceptable?" Padma mechanically moved her head up and down, but inwardly she was frozen with fear at the thought of her future. She had accepted that she was alive, but to go on _living?_ How… how could she do that?

How could she do that, when she was alone?

Padma quickly realized Madam Pomfrey was still talking and tried to catch up with what she said. "...I've done all that I can do for now, dear. You are in general health, but expect to feel quite sore for at least a few day. You have some minor scrapes and bruises that I cleaned but could not spare any extra potions for." Madam Pomfrey said with sympathy but not apology. "I'm going to lift the numbing spell I administered so you can get used to the feeling. Are you quite ready, Miss Patil?" She asked, lifting her wand.

 _No,_ she thought. "Yes," she said.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and gradually Padma felt discomfort creep through her bones. Everything was weak and sore, and there was a dull throbbing in her side but it wasn't unbearable. She didn't like the feeling, but it gave her something to hold onto. If she couldn't control her emotions, there was something comforting and concrete about physical pain.

"I'll go retrieve some spare robes for you, Miss Patil. Do excuse me." Madam Pomfrey bustled away.

Padma slowly and carefully raised herself into a sitting position. Luna danced over as if to help, but Padma gasped out, "No, I'm okay. I can do it myself." Even if she couldn't, she would have to learn.

Padma sighed when she was at last upright and reflexively reached to touch her hair, then winced. It was still in a braid but it felt tangled and dirty. Her body seemed to be cleaned, but apparently no one had touched her hair (although she couldn't expect them to predict her own vanity and could hardly fault them for it). Oh well, Parvati had taught her some beauty spells and she could easily fix the problem.

She turned to the bedside table instinctively for her wand, but it wasn't there. "Luna?" She asked. "Do you know where my wand is?"

Luna tilted her head in thought. "I don't know where it is exactly, but someone probably confiscated it because they found it stabbed into Parvati." Padma flinched rather violently at the casually said words, but Luna didn't apologize and Padma was glad for it. She wasn't sure what she wanted or needed right now, but she didn't want Luna to sugarcoat anything for her.

"Oh," She managed, hating how very small her voice sounded.

"You'll get it back." Luna said with such calm confidence Padma was inclined to believe that too, if not for an almost repulsed feeling that rose inside her and could not be contained.

"I almost don't want it back." The words came out just as small and insignificant as that 'oh' but the truth of them sent tremors down through her bones to her very soul. "I kind of hate magic right now," the words wouldn't stop coming, "after witnessing it do such horrible things."

"Magic saved your life." Luna said conversationally.

"But it took my sister." The aftermath of those words stilled the shaking inside her with a quiet truth that felt much worse.

For awhile it seemed like Luna had no response, but as usual Luna surprised her (which wasn't very surprising after all). "That would be the whole of it, then, wouldn't it? Nothing is ever completely good or completely bad, and yet we go about our lives trying to believe the opposite and make decisions based on that lie. It's really quite ugly… But also quite beautiful." Luna smiled a little. "How funny. Even the realization that life is both ugly and beautiful contains that very duality." She laughed, loud and uncomfortable and unashamed.

Padma felt an irrational sliver of resentment at Luna's seemingly effortless eloquence. "Your honesty is also a contradiction," she muttered before she could stop it. "Wonderful but somehow annoying." Wait. _What did I just say?_ Her hands flew to her mouth in mortification. "Oh Luna!" She apologized immediately. "I'm so sorry. You're being so nice to me and here I am -"

"You were teasing me, and you meant it." Luna interrupted with the look of a student puzzling through a particularly interesting riddle. "But it didn't make me feel bad." Then Luna gave Padma a sunny smile. "This must be how friends talk each other."

Padma sat back. "Huh." She said. Then, she felt herself smile, and it didn't feel very strange or wrong at all. "I suppose it is."

"That's nice." Luna said dreamily, and it was.

A beat of unusually comfortable silence. Then…

"Padma?"

"Yes?"

"Now that we're friends," Luna sounded almost hesitant, which caught Padma's attention quite effectively. "Will you let me do your hair?"

Padma blinked. Even for Luna, that was unexpected.

"Only… it always looks so lovely and healthy and clean." Luna said earnestly. "And It's a bit messy and dirty right now… And I have my wand." She gestured to where it perched over her ear. "Perhaps... it will help you feel more like yourself?"

She absently fiddled with the ends of her own very long blonde hair. "And perhaps… It will make you hate magic less if it does something good for you, even if it's just a little thing."

Padma to wait a minute before she could talk around the sudden lump in her throat. "I would like that." She whispered, but made sure to smile so Luna knew she was sincere.

Luna smiled back, and it was very real and not so dreamy at all.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was nearing the end of her rounds, burdened with a folded set of spare robes for the Patil girl (the poor dear) when she came upon a scene that actually made her stop and just look.

The little Lovegood girl (who wasn't so little anymore, although still quite petite and probably a bit iron deficient too) was sitting cross-legged on Miss Patil's bed, chattering and humming in turns while her fingers deftly wove and plaited the other girl's long shining black hair into an intricately braided creation.

Miss Patil was sitting in front of her, holding out a mirror in front of her (was that mirror made of butterbeer corks?) and actually smiling and even talking, despite previously having the disposition of a dimmed lamp.

Madam Pomfrey was a healer who cared very deeply about her students, but she had never been the openly sentimental sort of witch. However, it had been a very long day, or was it night? Goodness, she had apparently lost track of the endless hours trying to do what she only knew how; to heal. The school, the students, the injured and even the healthy… Everyone needed a healer right now, and she was only one (although very capable) witch.

Apparently the personal stress was greater than she had realized, because the simple sight of two young women who would never be children again, enjoying a sweet moment of stolen girlhood, was nearly bringing tears to her eyes.

Madam Pomfrey allowed herself a moment to just watch, and let the seeming endless reality of injury and pain and darkness be replaced by one of giggles and smiles and sunlight.

For just one moment, Madam Pomfrey watched, and let herself be healed.

* * *

 **Author's note: I felt that Padma needed a brief reprieve with some Luna-friendship goodness before we really get into the higher plot stakes. Enjoy it, Padma, and I apologize in advance (is there a word for the guilty feeling you get about the sufferings you inflict upon fictional characters as a writer? Because I have that).**

 **To my friend (you know who you are), I really tried not to end on that sentence. I really did. But it just worked and nothing else worked in quite the same way. So… sorry not sorry? *sheepish but irresistibly cheeky grin***

 **To my other readers, I hope you are enjoying these frequent updates. I can almost guarantee it won't continue in such prompt fashion, so don't take it for granted! I certainly am not.**

 **Please follow/favorite/review!**


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Madam Pomfrey came, it was not to give but to take.

"Padma, Professor McGonagall asked me to escort you and Luna to the headmaster's office." With a few gentle but succinct words, she took away Padma's sanctuary and her sense of safety.

Padma glanced at the doors to the hospital wing which had seemed so far away and merely decorous, but now loomed large and ominous and entirely too close. She knew their function too well. She had already used them to enter (well, she assumed. She _had_ been unconscious for that), and now she would have to use them to leave.

Rationally, Padma knew that the doors were not locked and were capable of being opened again, but she could not help but feel that once she crossed that threshold, this moment of peace she had here with Luna at her side would be forever lost to her.

This had become her Room of Requirement, and she still desperately needed it.

She stared at her lap where her hands curled in the folds of her new robes that she now wanted to take off. "Can't I stay?" She hated how small and meek her voice sounded, like a mouse. Madam Pomfrey had been in Hufflepuff, and it was easy for a badger to refuse a mouse. If only Parvati were here. A badger could not so easily ignore a lion.

"No my dear." The words weighed heavily on her shoulders and tasted bitter in her mouth, even though she had not said them. She wondered if they tasted bitter to Madam Pomfrey too.

The process of packing up her things and remaking the bed happened all too quickly, for she had no things here and Madam Pomfrey fixed the bed with just a flick of her wand. It looked as if she had never been there.

Padma felt suspended between the bed and the doors. She could not return to the bed, but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to walk through those doors.

Luna's soft voice came from beside her, and Padma closed her eyes and tried to pretend it was Parvati.

"It's okay, Padma. I'm right here."

But it was not Parvati, and it never would be again. And because she was grateful to Luna and did not want to devalue the girl's compassion and friendship towards her (although she was sure Luna would understand), Padma opened her eyes and smiled at the blonde Ravenclaw girl. "Thank you, Luna." She said, and with those words she also vowed never to pretend Luna was Parvati ever again. They both deserved better.

With Luna beside her, and Madam Pomfrey leading the way, they walked down the aisle between beds towards the doors. Padma felt strangely like she was shrinking with each step, until she stood small and helpless in the shadow of the doorway. Madam Pomfrey obviously had no such feeling, for she immediately pushed the door open and held it for the girls. Luna danced through without hesitation, and they both looked at Padma expectantly.

She stared down at the threshold where the stone changed patterns from hospital wing to hallway, and prayed for Parvati's courage.

But courage did not come, and the part of Padma's brain that still functioned with logic and reason told her that it was just a door, and it was just a step. She had been walking most of her life and it had never been some great feat of bravery, except maybe that very first time.

It was this logic that carried her over that threshold, but when she finally stepped over it and those great doors closed behind her with a quiet click that was somehow louder than a slam, she could not shake how much it felt like her very first step. Or her very last.

* * *

Padma shivered. Had the halls of Hogwarts always been this cold?

The hallways looked how they always had, the stones old and faded and only a little bit dusty, and Padma allowed herself comfort in the familiarity. As they walked, she reached out and let her hand trail across the wall, until her hand caught on the grooves of a roughly-hewn stone. She felt a stinging sensation as the stone scraped her, and hissed softly. She turned her palm over and blinked at the miniscule line of red spots of blood, rising up through the broken skin like polished rubies.

The sharp edges of this one stone had not been worn smooth by the passage of time; it had recently been replaced. Awareness sliced through her, and knowledge of what had happened in these very halls just hours before welled up in her like blood from a cut and spread through the air.

She spotted the smallest red fleck on the stone and wondered who had been tasked to scourgify the blood from the walls after the battle, then have to banish the debris and replace all the damaged stones. Who had tried to erase the evidence of tragedy and only done half a job? Who turned these halls, safe and strong, into something harsh and painful? Someone could get hurt.

 _Someone did._

Padma thought about asking Madam Pomfrey or Luna, who were still walking on ahead oblivious to her dawdling, to clean her blood off the wall and smooth over the surface of the stone, but defiance surged suddenly through her.

It felt cruel and wrong for them to be restoring Hogwarts so soon after the battle. It felt like forgetting, and forgetting was something Padma just could not do, however much she might wish it.

Padma decided to leave behind that sharp rock stained with her blood, and now as she walked she welcomed the feeling of cold air prickling her skin, like she was passing through ghosts.

* * *

They reached the gargoyle that marked the entrance to the headmaster's office, who let them in without asking for a password. As the spiraling stairs lifted them up, Luna briefly touched her wrist. She had not tried to hold her hand after that first time, as if she knew Padma was not ready. Padma returned the gesture, Luna's pulse steady against her fingertips as the world moved beneath her.

The headmaster's office came into view, and Padma suddenly realized she had never been in here before. Professor McGonagall was waiting for them just over the threshold, and it seemed... odd for her to be there, and Padma realized she had actually been expecting to see Dumbledore inside, even though he had been dead for nearly a year.

"Poppy." McGonagall greeted, and in that name was years of professional camaraderie and esteem, that did not need the tedium of formality or the frivolity of small talk.

"Headmistress." The matron nodded respectfully. Padma blinked. Yes, it would be 'headmistress' now, wouldn't it?

McGonagall was pursing her lips and shaking her head. "It's not right to be calling me that, so soon after Albus... and Severus."

Padma could not help but flinch at the name of her old potions teacher that she had grown to fear and hate so much. Then what McGonagall had said struck her, and she glanced at Luna in shock. Luna looked sad but not surprised. She didn't look directly back at Padma, but nodded slightly, acknowledging her unspoken question.

So Snape was dead. Padma absorbed this and found that she was not surprised. What other fate could he have in a world where Harry defeated Voldemort? He was a Death Eater; a murderer.

The aching chasm in Padma's chest that had been her constant companion since she woke up to find her sister dead seemed to grow just the slightest bit larger and as another name echoed into her emptiness Padma realized she was grieving for Snape, at least the one she had known before.

She didn't get the chance to properly examine this realization, as McGonagall noticed her and Luna's presence. Her sharp gaze landed on Luna and softened into a slight smile. Padma nearly smiled herself. Even the stoic professor was fond of the unusual girl.

Then Padma found that gaze on her, and it was anything but soft. The woman seemed to age another ten years as she looked at her, a troubled storm passing over her normally clear grey eyes.

"Miss Patil…" She said, and Padma keenly felt the absence of her twin anew in the presence of someone who had almost never seem them apart. "...and Miss Lovegood, you're both here. Now we can get started."

She held out one arm stiffly and ushered the three newcomers around the corner where Padma was taken aback to see a small crowd of people waiting. First she saw the diminutive form of her head of house, Professor Flitwick. He smiled immediately upon seeing her, but the expression lacked its usual jovial quality. Standing near to him was a nervous-looking Cho Chang who actively avoided looking at Padma, and a concerned Neville Longbottom, face healed of bruises.

Also in the room were two strangers, an intimidating dark-skinned man who towered over everyone and a woman with black hair. They were wearing Auror robes, which Padma stared at in confusion, until an impatiently shifting body caught her attention.

Padma's eyes met the scowling, burning gaze of Zacharias Smith, and terrible comprehension shot through her, rooting her feet to the spot. She knew why they were here now.

 _It looks like Padma murdered her own twin sister by stabbing her with her wand!_

Padma reached out blindly and grabbed Luna's arm, trying not to let her panic show on her face.

"Oh look, Padma," Luna said calmly. "It's Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones." She pointed at the aurors. "They were good friends of Professor Dumbledore, so of course they are very trustworthy and reasonable people. Miss Jones was in Ravenclaw too, so she is very intelligent and logical like us."

No one outwardly reacted to Luna calling herself logical, and if Padma hadn't been so afraid she might have smiled. Gone were the days of Loony Lovegood, it seemed.

Luna's words seemed rather pointed, and the two aurors in question glanced at each other, looking almost uncomfortable. But her words were for Padma, who loosened her grip on Luna and clung to the new information instead. _Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hestia Jones._ She committed the names to memory.

"Thank you for the introductions, Miss Lovegood." Professor McGonagall said primly. Her gaze swept around the room, effortlessly commanding attention. She didn't seem so out of place in this office anymore. "Now, Let us get down to the bottom of this whole matter as quickly and painlessly as possible." Her eyes landed on Padma, hard and steady. "Miss Patil, I will be quite frank. There have been some very troubling accusations made against you, and now that you are sufficiently healed, we felt that it was of the utmost importance to deal with the issue in a timely and efficient manner before the rumors spread any further. As I'm sure you know, the harshest convictions come from the court of opinion, and perceived perpetrators are rarely given parole."

It seemed the professor had fallen back on her habit of alliteration, Padma mused in the midst of the encroaching dread.

An obnoxious snort was heard. Professor McGonagall glared sharply at Zacharias Smith, who either didn't see the facial reprimand or chose to ignore it. "Yeah, right." He scoffed. " _Perceived_ perpetrators. I know what I saw. Padma killed Parvati."

"Shut up, Smith." Neville hissed, but it was too late. The horrible words had been said, and now they existed in the world forever.

 _Padma killed Parvati._

The room was relatively insulated, but now it seemed like an echo chamber. The words took on many forms. They bounced around the walls and zipped around like mad Cornish pixies, scratching and snarling and demanding all attention. _Padma killed Parvati._ The words attached themselves to Padma's ankles like heavy chains dragging her underwater in an ocean she hadn't known was there. _Padma killed Parvati._ Then they seemed to concentrate into one spot and they turned into something ugly and sinister wearing Parvati's face, serene and blood-covered as she had looked in death.

Parvati smiled at Padma, and leaned close. She put her dead lips to her sister's ear, and whispered something. This Parvati, brought briefly back to life by Smith's words, clawed her way into Padma's body and disappeared inside that empty chasm, chased by that white-hot whisper that branded her very soul.

 _Padma killed Parvati._

Padma wanted those words _gone,_ she wanted to climb inside herself and rip them out of her. If she died, all the better. If she died, then she could see the gentle and pure Parvati that had come to her during a dreamless sleep and saved her from jumping into that screaming abyss that now lived inside her.

All the oxygen rushed into that endless chasm, leaving her lungs with nothing but dust. Padma's head spun and her vision began to blur as the shadows hissed and clawed at her, trying to unravel her threads.

Unable to speak, Padma's mind cried out, _Parvati!_

Something made of warmth and light rushed through her like a patronus charm, and the shadows cowered, dissipating into the comforting darkness of a quiet mind.

"Padma?" A deep, mellifluous baritone carried her name back to the room where her body was, and it was no longer that thing of dark magic and necromancy that Zacharias had made it. Auror Shacklebolt remade her name into something neutral and steady, something that could be either guilty or innocent, dark or light. It was a place where she could stand for now.

"Padma." He said it again, and Padma remembered herself. She focused on his dark eyes, even darker than his skin and managed to nod in acknowledgment. "I apologize for Mr. Smith's outburst though he will not. He knows that everyone is innocent until proven guilty."

Again, a statement that was neither condemning nor absolving, but his voice lent it that stability Padma so desperately needed.

Auror Shacklebolt continued in that deep, steadying voice. "Miss Patil," He said, fixing her with his gaze, making sure she understood. "I want to make this as clear as possible. You have been accused of murder."

 _Padma killed Parvati._ Somehow, this time the words remained just that. Just words.

"As an officer of the law, and one of the only non corrupt ones left alive, I take this very seriously."

Of that, Padma had no doubt.

"However," The man kept going, "the Ministry is in shambles right now. It will take us a long time to repair the damage that the Dark Lord and his followers have done to our government. We cannot in good conscience hold you for trial until that happens, but nor can we ignore such claims simply on blind faith. So we have gathered here to come to a satisfactory solution we can all live with." He gestured one large dark hand towards Smith. "Young Mister Smith here claims to be a witness, so that is his purpose here. Your friends and classmates Mister Longbottom, Miss Chang, and Miss Lovegood may serve as character witnesses for or against you depending on their statements. Auror Jones and myself represent the Ministry and the law. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are the current authorities over you as a Hogwarts student and a member of Ravenclaw house. They will help us decide and carry out a sentence."

With every word the eloquent man spoke, everyone seemed to grow more and more at ease with the situation. Well, everyone except Padma. For despite his calming voice and admittedly reasonable approach to the whole thing, she felt her earlier panic begin to fight its way back to the surface with torches and pitchforks, led by a violently intense surge of denial.

How could they be humoring this… this madness? How could anyone, especially her own _teachers_ and _classmates,_ actually be _considering_ the utterly _insane_ notion that she _killed her own twin sister?!_

The denial was joined by something else, something stronger and louder. As it spread through her veins like boiling hot lava and her heartbeat thundered in her ears like explosions, Padma recognized the feeling for what it was.

 _Rage._

Padma was utterly _enraged_ by the situation she was in right now, at the people that had caused it and were continuing it, and her own helplessness in the face of it. The recognition of her anger and what was causing it gave Padma a clarity she had been lacking, and she felt it split the suffocating, numbing clouds of grief and pain in her mind like lightning, blasting the clouds away and giving her focus and purpose.

It gave her courage.

Padma had always been a bit exasperated by Parvati's unpredictable temper, as she had always been able to rationalize and compartmentalize her feelings with clinical efficiency. But now, the anger was the only thing keeping her head clear, and strangely it made her feel closer to Parvati.

Feet rooted and body steady as a rock, Padma looked up and directly into Auror Shacklebolt's eyes without fear and wondered if this was what it felt like to be a lion.

Something shifted through his dark eyes, almost like he was surprised and maybe even a little impressed with her now, and his chin inclined slightly. His mouth opened, but before he could speak, Zacharias predictably cut him off.

"I already told you what I know." He grumbled petulantly. Padma was almost amused; he sounded like every crime suspect in every mystery novel ever written. She supposed it would be too much to expect the boy to be original; ignorance never was. "Why can't we just dose her with Veritaserum and be done with it? It's not like we're not used to it after the Carrows."

"Zacharias," Flitwick's moustache lowered as he frowned reprovingly at the Hufflepuff, but the black-haired woman, Auror Jones, shrugged a little as she looked at her comrade.

"Actually Kingsley, I don't know why we didn't think of that already." She said in an unapologetically loud voice. She was not the only one who had taken advantage of the Dark Lord's defeat to do away with all forms of secrecy and subterfuge, including whispering.

Padma felt hope rush through her like a flash flood. _Veritaserum!_ If they questioned her using the potion then they would _know_ she was telling the truth! This could all be over in a matter of minutes!

But before she could speak up and agree, a surprising voice cut her off.

"No."

Nine pairs of startled eyes turned to Neville, who had a fiercely protective glare on his face. Padma briefly remembered a time when any form of attention would have the boy shriveling like an underwater plant in the desert.

 _This_ Neville, the one who had led an entire group of students in revolt for months as their leader and protector, was meeting everyone's gaze strong and steady without a hint of nerves or awkwardness.

He continued: "When Voldemort was in power" - no one was flinching at that name itself anymore, only the memories it brought - "They used veritaserum on everyone. The Carrows would use it on students to humiliate us, asking us questions about our worst or most embarrassing memories, stuff like that. They tried to demoralize us, to break us." He glanced at Cho, who was visibly trembling now. Even Zacharias looked affected by the memories. "We're not like them." He said.

Padma swallowed hard, watching as Cho raised a shaking hand to quickly swipe at tears now filling her eyes. The horrors of the past year all seemed so far away right now in the face of fresh tragedies, like a barely-remembered childhood nightmare. But Padma realized that for the others, those memories could not be forgotten, and they were what caused the black hole inside their chest like the one she bore, threatening to consume them.

Maybe Cho hadn't seen her twin sister die in front of her. But that didn't mean she didn't have her own ghosts.

Padma glanced at their professors, wondering how they were affected by the knowledge of their students' harm at the hands of other teachers. They both looked impossibly sad and tired and angry. Flitwick had never seemed so small… and McGonagall had never seemed so old.

Neville looked directly at Padma now. When they were younger and in the shallows of adolescent vanity, girls had compared those eyes to Harry's electric emerald ones and found them wanting. But looking at them now, irises so water-clear and summer-bright, she wondered how anyone had ever thought them dull. "We don't turn against our own." He said firmly, "I don't need a truth potion to tell me what I already know about Padma. I believe that she's innocent."

Something small and bright flared within Padma and swelled within her, and now she swallowed back a lump caused by another emotion. She could only look at Neville as she fought back the sudden tingle of tears and hope he could see her gratitude in her eyes.

Luna stepped daintily forward, beaming proudly at Neville. "I'll answer questions if you want to ask them, Mr. Shacklebolt, but I agree with Neville. I know Padma is innocent because I know her, and I know she loved Parvati." She smiled back at Padma, who had to look away, overcome by this show of unconditional friendship.

Cho looked very unsure now, glancing between her classmates and the adults in the room. Cho had always been a very good girl and a very good student. The only rules she had ever broken were joining the DA, but she had never outright spoken up against a teachers, even those like Umbridge and the Carrows. She had been supportive of her more vocal friends like Neville and Parvati, but like Padma, Cho had always remained in the background of the conflict.

Zacharias still glared at Padma, but when his gaze strayed to Neville he looked the tiniest bit uncertain.

Padma felt that bright spark within her grow, and it felt like hope again.

Professor McGonagall finally spoke up. She looked around at her students with the air of a mother who is both proud and saddened by her children's maturity, and turned to Auror Shacklebolt with a decisive nod. "Kingsley, I quite support your endeavors to uphold the law in the aftermath of such a lawless year, but I must agree with my students. Even under Cornelius Fudge and the previous minister, the use of Veritaserum on minors was, though not illegal, _highly_ frowned upon." Her head tilted sharply as if she had just remembered something. "Why, Kingsley, aren't you also one of the top candidates for Minister of Magic now?"

He nodded slowly.

She looked down her nose at him as she would a squirrelly child acting out during class. "I would vote for you in a heartbeat, Kingsley, but _not,"_ She lifted one finger imperiously into the air, "If I thought you were going to continue the legacy of Cornelius Fudge, who rendered guilty verdicts upon innocent people like Sirius Black, whom if I remember was your _friend_ , without the most basic human right of a fair trial and treated the law like it was something to be ignored instead of upheld!"

Padma blinked wide eyes. _Wow._

Auror Jones and all of the other students gazed at the professor in awe. Flitwick's beady eyes were twinkling, his moustache lifted in a smug smirk. Auror Shacklebolt looked thoroughly chastened.

"This is all very inspiring and touching, but the point is quite moot." Madam Pomfrey spoke up. "For the Hogwarts potion stores are completely out of Veritaserum anyway. Severus himself made that potion but even his incomparable skills could not keep up with the Carrows' flagrant use of it, not to mention the needs of the Dark Lord and his other followers. I imagine there is quite the shortage of Veritaserum all over the country, not to mention the ingredients needed to make it."

Auror Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall glanced at each other.

"...well." McGonagall said finally.

"Yes. Well." Auror Shacklebolt echoed, his forehead creased in the only outward indication of the burden he had to bear. Padma did not envy him, but she was having trouble calling up much sympathy for the man who held her fate in his hands, so she only looked at him warily.

He finally sighed deeply. "Then we will proceed as we originally intended. Auror Jones and I will take everyone's statements individually then we along with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick will decide… what to do." He looked around at each person. "Madam Pomfrey, I know you are very busy, so we shall start with you. Auror Jones, please escort everyone else to the hallway to wait."

Padma felt her hope and courage fade a little bit with each word, leaving behind only the anger… and the fear.

The focused lightning streak of anger disappeared, and the clouds and darkness rolled back in. And in the absence of that blinding fire, the uncontrollable raging lava in her veins was all she had to give her light, however twisted and dim.

Then Parvati's voice rushed through her like a cool breeze.

 _You're a Ravenclaw, Padma. Use your anger. Don't let it use you._

She took a deep, steadying breath. The flood of fire eased but it left behind glowing embers, waiting to be ignited. They hissed at her. _You're an eagle, Padma. You are not prey. You are the predator._

Padma faced this den of badgers and lions and decided she would not be a mouse. She lifted her chin and met Auror Shacklebolt's gaze head on, but not as a lion this time.

She was a student of Ravenclaw.

She was an _eagle_ , and she would soar above them all.

* * *

 **Author's note: I know the events of these early chapters are moving a little slowly, but a strong foundation for the plot is key for later on where we are going to encounter some daunting large stretches of time. I'm talking** _ **years.**_ **So please bear with me, and I'll try not to disappoint.**

 **On a more personal note, this story has struck an unsuspected chord within me. Last year my always healthy and strong grandfather passed away suddenly from a heart attack, and it absolutely devastated my family, especially my mom and grandmother. Writing about Padma's loss has been hard because it makes me think of how I dealt and am dealing with my own grief, and because her situation is so completely different besides the obvious fictional aspect. Everyone deals with grief differently, and there's no right or wrong way to do it, but I am trying so hard to be authentic as I deal with Padma's perspective because her character development is crucial to the story. So please give me feedback as I keep writing and tell me what I am doing right and wrong (I won't rewrite chapters but I will take everything into consideration for future chapters).**

 **I just wanted to share that with you guys. Stay tuned for the next chapter! Much love to you all.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Surreal._ That was the only word Padma could think of that fully described her current situation, surrounded by people that may or may not believe she was a murderer, their numbers slowly diminishing one by one as people went in to give their testimony or be questioned or whatever the hell they were doing in there.

Zacharias had been the first to be called, and it was like he had disapparated into the office; he moved so fast. After an indiscernible amount of time that neither felt long nor short, he exited again and was surprisingly subdued. He walked away without once looking back. Padma watched him go, waiting to feel something like anger or hatred. She only felt cold. The rage that had sustained her at first had gone dormant, though she could still feel it lying in wait, the absence of it had left her storming mind so blessedly quiet and still she could not bear to break it with words or strong emotions.

The hissing, laughing, dizzying dark corners of her mind were silent and so was the fluttering pulsing warmth that had Parvati's voice. Padma could not bring herself to miss it. The endless waiting in this cold stone hallway felt like a purgatory she almost felt she deserved. The rage and pain had made her feel so briefly alive, but now in the aftermath she was so tired. She didn't want to feel alive. Not when her sister wasn't.

Parvati's death had broken her apart like an earthquake, ripping a hole inside of her chest, everything around it in pieces. She didn't know how to begin to try to put herself back together. She just wanted to drift away in the fuzzy silence in her head, away from the jagged edges of her debris.

The edges that cut into her, but instead of blood what leaked out felt more like guilt.

It was absurd. Padma _knew_ it wasn't her fault. She did _not_ kill her sister. It was the only thing that felt true to her anymore; the one thing that had remained intact after the disaster was her love for Parvati. But now it was an aimless, drifting thing now with only memories to anchor it. It was both familiar and alien to Padma, and so far away inside her. She felt it like a fragile flickering candle flame, surrounded on all sides by a minefield.

She knew she loved Parvati, and she knew she didn't kill her, but reaching both of those things required strength she didn't have anymore. The past day or however long it had been since the battle had been such a roaring maelstrom of emotions and trauma, Padma could not bring herself to face anymore pain even to simply feel her love for Parvati the way she used to.

So she was suspended, somewhere between the sweet and scary oblivion coaxing her and the painful brokenness of her reality.

Padma felt something wet and warm slide down her cheek. At first she thought it was blood; how could she _not_ be bleeding when she felt so mortally wounded? When she tasted salt and realized she was crying, it was met with surprise. These tears had come unannounced, like they had been living in her eyes all along just waiting for a quiet moment to make their presence known.

Padma was instantly, acutely aware of her sadness. It was the only thing keeping her together right now, flowing between and around her erosion like a river. And now the river had found its edge and was falling, and Padma wished she could fall with it.

Cool, impossibly gentle fingers touched her wrist.

Luna, even after she had taken her turn, had refused to leave Padma. She had chatted amiably with Neville for awhile, who seemed eager and also confused to be having a normal conversation about nothing in particular. She had even spoken sweetly to Cho a few times, who had hovered as far from Padma as she could be without being completely separate from the rest of them. Neville and Cho had long since left, but Luna was still there, sitting right beside her and keeping her from being alone and giving completely into the numbness with just her presence.

If Padma had been feeling more mentally articulate, she might have found it amusing how the girl who had always been characterized by having her head in the clouds was currently the only thing keeping her grounded, for better or for worse.

Padma carefully laid her head on Luna's small shoulder, almost afraid to touch Luna, seized by strong desire not to hurt her. But when Luna stayed upright and breathing and alive under Padma's touch, she gave in and let the girl support her and be her strength as she finally let herself cry.

* * *

The Sorting Hat had once been a very smart and fashionable hat (though no one but Godric Gryffindor had seemed to think so, the Sorting Hat admitted, remembering Salazar Slytherin's sneers and snickers with a sniff) full of magic and energy and _life_ (well, only sort of. Inanimate objects, even magical ones, cannot be _alive,_ only magically sentient).

And for the most part, even as its color and shape faded and warped over the centuries, the Hat's reserves of energy remained steady. Its magic was tied intrinsically to that of Hogwarts itself, and Hogwarts had ever been strong and true.

Except for two notable instances. Yes, there had technically been three wizarding conflicts, but Grindelwald's brief rise to power had never reached Hogwarts and so the Hat remained unaffected and mostly indifferent. The Hat was only really interested in its job of sorting students, what those students did after the fact was not its fault or business, unless it directly threatened Hogwarts.

When Tom Riddle had been a student at Hogwarts, the magic of the school had been on high alert, wary of the boy's potential for Dark magic. He had flirted madly with the Darkness for those seven years but never completely gave in until after he graduated, and so Hogwarts never had to intervene. The subsequent war (later to be known as the First Wizarding War) had affected the students of Hogwarts deeply and therefore affected Hogwarts' magic, but the actual events of the war never happened in the school.

Then came Harry Potter, and the second coming of Lord Voldemort. Throughout Harry's six years at the school, there were many instances where Hogwarts got directly involved. Hiding the Philosopher's Stone in the Mirror of Erised (Hogwarts' magic, Dumbledore's spells), giving the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry to kill the basilisk, and providing the Room of Requirement both during Harry's fifth year… and the year where Harry wasn't there at all, but other children were.

And lastly, the Hat itself had been tasked with providing the Sword to that boy Neville Longbottom so that he could kill Nagini (everyone now praised Neville for his bravery, which irritated and amused the Hat. It had sorted the boy into Gryffindor seven years ago, and they only now believed it hadn't made a mistake? When would these wizards learn to stop doubting the Hat… or themselves? Oh, well. The Hat may be able to sort humans, but it could hardly understand them).

The battle had quite literally destroyed parts of Hogwarts after a long year of fluctuating magic and an overwhelming presence of Darkness. It would take a long time for Hogwarts to recover, and for the first time the Sorting Hat felt every single year of the centuries it had existed.

Now all the Hat wanted was a good long nap, but these infernal _humans_ just would _not_ stop talking!

Minerva McGonagall had not used this office at all in the exactly two days she had been Headmistress and the Hat had been hoping that would be the case for awhile. Minerva may be preferable to Severus Snape's increasingly suffocating solemn aura this past year, but she was a good deal more businesslike and intense than Albus Dumbledore's subtle albeit unusual and powerful presence. The Hat wasn't expecting many opportunities to nap in her upcoming administration, and was trying to catch up now while it could.

But then she had marched in with a whole _flock_ (gaggle? Herd? The Hat didn't know the proper term for a group of humans) of people who were being distractingly dramatic, whispering and sighing and head-shaking and "what-are-we-going-to-do?"-ing.

The Hat was no stranger to this behavior having inhabited a school for so long. Many a headmaster had exhibited these symptoms when dealing with a troublesome child. But this felt distinctly more severe, and the Hat's interest was piqued.

It observed as the humans bobbed around the room like those magical floating candles in the great hall, waiting for something - or someone, as it turned out to be, when the old Healer woman entered with two young girls. The Hat had wondered before if the sour-faced Hufflepuff boy in the corner was the problematic student they were discussing, but the instant change in group body language when the three newcomers entered banished that theory. Everyone straightened and faced forward, not once turning their backs to them.

The Hat had also seen this behavior before. It was the same way more spineless headmasters treated children with dangerous and influential pureblood parents. It was how Dumbledore had treated Tom Riddle before he was Voldemort. It was how some people had treated Harry Potter.

The Hat recognized Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw it had sorted not very long ago. The Hat thought her the brightest witch it had ever encountered, but her brightness manifested in extremely unusual colors and sparks. She was also equal parts brave and kind and clever; a worthy addition to any House, but the Sorting Hat had no doubts. She was Ravenclaw through and through.

The Hat found it very unlikely that Luna was the reason its nap had been disturbed, and so turned its attention to the final human. A black-haired girl with brown skin and sad brown eyes. She _looked_ perfectly normal, but the Hat did not think it was right for a human to seem so… wilted.

It took but a moment to place the girl's features. Padma Patil, another obvious Ravenclaw. The girl had not stood out when surrounded by more interesting sorting challenges like Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger, but the Hat remembered her essence had been pleasant to experience. Still waters of calm intellect and a quiet courage that came from a deep wellspring of integrity. All of this was somewhat restrained by the insecurities of youth but the Hat knew the girl could blossom into something quite special.

Further intrigued by how this good little girl had become such a source of consternation, the Hat listened intently as the male Auror spoke and was quite shocked to find that the child had been accused of _murder_ of all things! And these people were to hold a makeshift investigation and trial right here in the headmistress' office! How very diverting.

The wilted look of the child changed as the charges were brought against her. Those sad brown eyes hardened with defiance and determination. It seemed as though she would not just accept a guilty verdict. _Good_ , the Hat thought approvingly. Ravenclaws are thinkers, and a true thinker does not just accept things as they are.

Padma and all the other students were escorted out of the room while the adults prepared for the proceedings. It all went rather informally though the Aurors tried to create as official an atmosphere as possible. Auror Shacklebolt and Professors Flitwick and McGonagall sat in a line of chairs behind a long conjured table, facing another chair to be used for the witnesses. Auror Jones also sat at the table, and though she would also be questioning the witnesses, her primary job was to record the proceedings (she charmed a quill to write down everything that was said, but everyone knows that QuickNotes Quills can be overly dramatic and require constant supervision and editing to remain accurate).

The first witness was Madam Pomfrey. They asked her about Padma and Parvati's injuries.

"When Padma Patil was brought into my hospital wing, she was unconscious." The matron testified. "I examined her and found many small lacerations and contusions consistent with both magical and physical combat. Her most serious injury was a deep wound in her side. It appeared to be caused by a curse, but my initial diagnostic spell did not work."

"How could it not work?" The younger female auror, Hestia Jones, asked curiously.

Madam Pomfrey weighed her words before speaking. "It did give me readings but they were highly unusual. Instead of finding residual magic only around Miss Patil's injuries like my other patients, I scanned her and found that her entire body was giving off an abnormally high magical signature."

"Do you have any explanation for this?" Auror Shacklebolt asked.

"None that I am confident of." Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "I could not thoroughly study this anomaly, because I had other patients to take care of. I stopped the bleeding from her side with Healing spells and administered a blood replenishing potion to heal her physically, and a dreamless sleep potion to help her magic settle and restore. I examined her later and found that the magic had faded to regular levels, except for residual dark magic around her wound. She was probably hit by a curse."

"So the first diagnostic spell was erroneous." Flitwick suggested.

Madam Pomfrey shot him a disapproving look. "My spells are never incorrect, Filius." Then she hesitated, "But... I also examined Parvati's body, and it was _completely_ void of magical signature."

Auror Jones' charmed quill paused.

The room was silent for a long time.

"How… how is that possible?" Jones whispered.

Madam Pomfrey was solemn. "I know of no spells or potions, Dark or Light, capable of completely draining a person of their magic. Now, Parvati also had some combat injuries, generally more serious than Padma's. But the only real possible cause of death was the magical embalming, and the only possible source of this was Padma's wand."

"What are you saying?" Flitwick demanded, moustache quivering.

"I am saying that my first magical scan of Padma's body showed that she had _twice_ the normal amount of magic in her body, and Parvati had none." Madam Pomfrey replied sharply. "I may primarily by a Healer, professor, but I can do basic maths."

Another long, tense silence. If the Hat breathed air like a human, it would have been holding its breath in anticipation.

"So... it is your testimony that Padma Patil is guilty." Auror Jones said, trying and failing to sound professional and unaffected. Her face was quite pale.

"I only know the medical facts, which are frustratingly vague." Madam Pomfrey clarified. "I would dearly like to believe that Padma is innocent. I've know the girl for a long time, and I remember that whenever Parvati was in the hospital wing, she would not leave her side, and vice versa." Sympathy and sadness softened the older woman's frosty blue eyes. She finished in a quiet but strong voice, "Padma loved Parvati. That is my testimony."

The others were quiet and contemplative. Auror Shacklebolt was frowning slightly. Finally, he nodded at the woman. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. You may go."

With a short nod, the matron swept from the room at a brisk pace.

"Hestia, strike Madam Pomfrey's last statements from the record." Shacklebolt said. His partner looked at him, startled. He explained, "Madam Pomfrey is not a character witness. We must only consider her medical expertise as a Healer." Jones nodded hesitantly and the quill scratched off the last bit of text with precise, confident strokes.

The Hat disapproved of this decision, but could see the political correctness of it. It was clear that Auror Shacklebolt was trying to be as lawful as possible.

The only question was, in a society only just recovering from an unlawful dictatorship that succeeded a well-intentioned but equally incompetent administration, what of the law should remain the same and what should change, to avoid the same fate?

The next person brought in was the Hufflepuff boy, Zacharias Smith. The Hat remembered him. A generally smart and amiable young man as a first year, but the events of the Second Wizarding War seemed to have turned him bitter and cynical and hungering for justice.

"Parvati was a friend of mine." Smith said, arrogant and angry. "Padma was always jealous of how popular she was."

"That is an assumption, Mister Smith." McGonagall reprimanded immediately. "Stick to facts and not opinions, please."

"Fine." Smith snarled, pouting like a petulant child. "The facts are this, Professor: I was in a group of people helping clean up after the battle. I found Padma and Parvati lying next to each other. I thought they were both dead. When I tried to pick Padma up, she woke up. I called everyone over and before we took Padma to the hospital wing, I saw that Parvati had a wand sticking out of her side. Eloise Midgen, another Gryffindor - another one of Parvati's _friends_ \- told me it was Padma's. Seems pretty obvious to me." He finished with a shrug that was too stiff to be casual.

"Yes, thank you, Zacharias." Flitwick said politely. "You may leave."

As Zacharias stood, he turned up his nose and declared, "You know, Parvati was a good person. She deserves justice, even if her own sister killed her." He glared in the direction of the door, " _Especially_ if her own sister killed her."

" _Thank_ you, Zacharias!" Flitwick said louder. "Please leave."

As the boy stomped out, he happened to glance in the Sorting Hat's direction. The adults were talking quietly and otherwise preoccupied, so the Hat took a chance and spoke aloud to him. "Helga Hufflepuff was a great lady and a good friend." It croaked. Zacharias stopped, startled. The hat glared down at him from its shelf. "She too would seek justice if her friends were wronged, because she was loyal. But she was also kind and fair, and did not condone mindless vengeance." It sharpened its magical on the boy's thin face, which looked uncomfortable but still stubborn.

"Do not confuse justice with revenge, boy." The Hat rasped. "And do not confuse friends with enemies."

Zacharias' glare wavered but he quickly hardened it. " _Parvati_ was my friend." His face did not wear anger well, and it twisted further until it went round the bend and almost looked a bit like sadness, "Padma never wanted to be."

* * *

 **Author's note: Stay tuned for Padma's "trial" part 2. Please follow/favorite/review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**(THE FOLLOWING EXCERPTS ARE FROM THE OFFICIAL D.M.L.E. TRANSCRIPT FOR THE WITNESS TESTIMONIES FOR/AGAINST PADMA PATIL)**

* * *

 **DEFENDANT:** Padma Patil

 **LEGAL GUARDIANS:**

Filius Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw House

Minerva McGonagall, headmistress

Hiran Patil, father - N/A

Priyanka Patil, mother - N/A

 **ALLEGED CRIME:** Murder of Parvati Patil

 **PRESIDING WIZENGAMOT MEMBER:** Kingsley Shacklebolt , Auror

 **MINISTRY REPRESENTATIVES:**

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror

Hestia Jones, Auror

 **HOGWARTS REPRESENTATIVES:**

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress

Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House

 **WITNESSES:**

(In order of questioning)

Poppy Pomfrey, Head Healer of Hogwarts

Zacharias Smith, Hufflepuff student

Cho Chang, Ravenclaw student

Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor student

Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw student

Padma Patil, Ravenclaw student

 **TRANSCRIBER:** Hestia Jones, Auror. Method of transcription, QuickNotes Quill.

* * *

 **WITNESS: Cho Chang**

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt:_ "Alright Miss Change, let's get this unpleasantness over with. My first question is, how would you describe your relationship to Padma Patil?"

 _Cho Chang_ : "Well… I've known her for seven years now. And we're housemates."

 _Shacklebolt_ : "Are you friends?"

 _Cho_ : "Yes, I suppose so."

 _Shacklebolt_ : "Close friends?"

 _Cho_ : "I don't know… yes?"

 _Shacklebolt_ : "You don't sound very sure, Miss Chang."

 _Cho_ : "Well, we got to know each other eventually. But outside of the dorms, we had different friends."

 _Shacklebolt_ : "Who were Padma's friends?"

 _Cho_ : "… um, well… Parvati…" _*crying*_ "I'm sorry, it's just -"

 _Shacklebolt_ : "That's quite alright, Miss Chang. We are all deeply saddened by the loss of Parvati."

 _Filius Flitwick_ : "Here you go, my dear." _*Flitwick hands Cho handkerchief*_

 _Cho:_ "Thank you, Professor."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "Do you feel up to continuing, Miss Chang?"

 _Cho:_ "Yes, sir. I'll be fine."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "Very good, Miss Chang. So Padma's primary friend was her sister?"

 _Cho:_ "Yes... and whoever Parvati was spending time with. Um, Lavender Brown… Seamus Finnigan… mostly Gryffindors in our year. But I think…"

 _Shacklebolt:_ "Yes? What do you think?"

 _Cho:_ "… I think if Parvati wasn't friends with them, she wouldn't have been either. Padma was always friendly and nice, but preferred spending time alone or with Parvati. She didn't really… well, she didn't go out of her way to make friends."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "And did you know Parvati Patil very well?"

 _Cho:_ "No, sir. She was in another house, and another year, and she had different friends. I only got to know Padma because she was in my house. And… we were all in Dumbledore's Army two years ago."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "I've heard a lot about Dumbledore's Army. Can you tell me about it?"

 _Cho_ : "Yes, sir... but... you should really ask Neville instead. He is the commander."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "I have one last question for you, Miss Chang. Do you think Padma killed Parvati?"

 _Cho:_ "I… I don't know."

* * *

 **WITNESS: Neville Longbottom**

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt:_ "Mister Longbottom, I hear you're the commander of Dumbledore's Army."

 _Neville Longbottom:_ "Ah, I guess. That title's mainly a joke Seamus made that caught on with the other kids in the group. Harry, Hermione and Ron started the D.A. our fifth year but they weren't here this year. Some of us from the old D.A. decided to reform the group when things started getting bad with Snape and the Carrows, but we needed someone to be in charge like Harry used to be. We took a vote, and I guess they all thought I would do a good job because they chose me."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "I think I speak for everyone when I say I believe they made the right choice."

 _Neville_ : "Er, thank you, I guess."

 _Minerva McGonagall:_ "False modesty is unbecoming, Mister Longbottom."

 _Neville_ : "Sorry, professor, but it's not false. I don't think I should be thanked. I may have been made the commander but I didn't do anything alone. We were a team; a family… and we were just trying to survive. I just happened to be someone who did."

 _Hestia Jones:_ "Cho Chang said that Padma and Parvati were both in the DA."

 _Neville_ : "Yeah, that's right. They were in the original group back in fifth year and were some of the first to join up again."

 _Jones:_ "Would you say you got to know them well, as their commander?"

 _Neville_ : "Good Godric, I wish Seamus had kept his big mouth shut. Can everyone please stop calling me that? No, I wouldn't say I got to know them well as their commander, but I would say I got to know them well as their friend."

 _Jones:_ "Okay, so as their friend, can you tell us about them?"

 _Neville_ : "Sure. Parvati was always really friendly and outgoing. She used to be kind of shallow and ditzy but she changed a lot this year. We all did."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "How did she change?"

 _Neville_ : "Well, she stayed friendly and outgoing, but she got really serious and passionate about fighting against you-know-who in any way she could. Especially after we heard the news that their parents were missing. Sometimes she could be kind of reckless, going out on missions by herself with no backup or plan. Only Padma could calm her down and make her stop and think if she got angry."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "What was Parvati like when she was angry?"

 _Neville_ : "She wasn't insane or anything, she was just the type to hex first and ask questions later. Not uncommon during a war, I think, especially for Gryffindors. But Parvati was also very loyal and brave. She became one of my best friends this year. I… I can't believe she's gone. She just didn't seem like someone who could die, you know? She was this force of nature. She had more life in her than almost anyone I know."

 _Shacklebolt_ : "It sounds like you were very close. I'm deeply sorry for your loss."

 _Neville_ : "It wasn't my loss. It was everyone's loss, but first and foremost it was Padma's. I have no idea what she must be going through right now, no one does."

 _Shacklebolt_ : "That's precisely what we're trying to determine, Neville. Padma's state of mind before and after Parvati's death. You say you were best friends with Parvati?"

 _Neville_ : "Parvati and I got close because we're in the same house and the same year, and we did the same things for the DA. We were part of the group that went on the… I guess you could call them missions. We were the ones who spied on the Death Eater students and teachers, got food from the kitchens, smuggled new kids into the Room, got messages to and from families… that kind of stuff."

 _Shacklebolt_ : "And what was Padma's role in the DA?"

 _Neville_ : "Well, Padma and Parvati are - were - pureblood. They didn't need to hide in the Room from the beginning like the muggleborns and some of the half bloods. They could keep going to classes and stuff. But after their parents disappeared and Parvati started taking a more active role in the missions, they thought they would be labeled as blood traitors and moved into the Room. Padma stayed there almost all of the time. She was brilliant at basic healing charms and she was really good with the little kids, but otherwise she kind of kept to herself."

 _Jones:_ "So you were not close with Padma?"

 _Neville_ : "We were all close. That's what happens when fifty kids fighting in a war live in the same room for a year."

 _Jones:_ "But how could you and Padma be close when she kept to herself?"

 _Neville_ : "I just… I know her."

 _Jones:_ "No, Neville. You knew Parvati."

 _Neville_ : _*no response*_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt_ : "You said that everyone changed this year. How did Padma change?"

 _Neville_ : "Padma was always more serious and calm than Parvati. She didn't actually change that much this year, except she got quieter and maybe more scared than usual. But again, that was true for everyone."

 _Jones:_ "So Padma was afraid."

 _Neville_ : "We all were scared, even the Gryffindors. We were all scared, and we were all brave. Look, being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid. It just means you do what needs to be done anyway. There wasn't a single coward who lived in the Room of Requirement this year. Parvati and Padma were both brave. They both did what needed to be done. They just did different things."

 _Jones:_ "Did Padma ever get angry or reckless like Parvati?"

 _Neville:_ "Padma, reckless? No. As for angry... I don't know, you'd have to ask her."

 _Jones:_ "Did Parvati ever take her anger out on Padma?"

 _Neville:_ "Not that I ever saw."

 _Jones_ : "But it's possible?"

 _Neville_ : "A lot of things are possible, ma'am."

 _Jones_ : "Like Padma killing Parvati?"

 _Neville_ : "Hey! That's not -"

 _Shacklebolt:_ "Thank you, Hestia, but we don't need to pursue that line of questioning at the moment. Neville, you were in the courtyard during the battle, correct?"

 _Neville_ : "Yeah…"

 _Shacklebolt:_ "Did you see Padma and Parvati at all during the fighting?"

 _Neville_ : "...I saw them a few times."

 _Jones:_ "Together?"

 _Neville_ : "Yeah, always together."

 _Jones:_ "So it's safe to assume that when Parvati died, Padma was there."

 _Neville_ : "Look, lady, I know what you're doing here but it's not going to work. You want to make it seem like this year turned Padma or Parvati insane and give yourselves an easy out for this. Well, you don't get an easy out for this! You don't know what it was like for us, a bunch of kids fighting for our lives all alone, locked in this damn dungeon of a school with no way out and no way to know when or if it would ever be over!"

 _Shacklebolt:_ "Neville -"

 _Neville_ : "And do you know why you don't know what it was like? Because none of you were there! No one tried to help us or even thought that we would be in danger because 'oh, Hogwarts is a good school, Hogwarts is safe'. Well, it wasn't safe seven _*profane language redacted*_ years ago when Voldemort walked in here on the back of Quirrell's _*profane language redacted*_ head, and it hasn't been safe since! Because all of you supposedly responsible adults left Harry and Hermione and Ron and the rest of us kids to clean up your mess from 18 years ago!"

 _Filius Flitwick:_ "Neville…"

 _Neville:_ "And now, two days after so many of us died fighting your battles, instead of letting us grieve and heal in peace while you all finally get your act together, you're trying to send a girl to Azkaban - have you bothered rescuing all of Voldemort's prisoners of war from there yet, by the way? - for murdering her own twin sister just so you don't have to feel guilty about all this! What the _*profane language redacted*_ is wrong with you?"

 _McGonagall:_ "Mister Longbottom! May I remind you that you are speaking to your Headmistress, and possibly the new Minister of Magic!"

 _Neville:_ "Frankly, I don't give a *profane language redacted*. Headmasters and Ministers don't seem to stay alive long enough to do much good for us anyway."

 _McGongall:_ "Neville!"

 _Flitwick:_ "No, Minerva, he's right. This whole second war was our fault. We were all so blind, just because we were too cowardly to face the possibility of fighting another war. Too cowardly, and too proud. Dumbledore was a great wizard and a wise man, but he kept too many secrets because no one bothered to question him and we all suffered because of it. But no one suffered more than our students. Maybe… we could have prevented it, had we paid attention and spoken up sooner… Those thoughts are going to keep me awake for the rest of my life and beyond."

 _McGonagall:_ "Yes… I believe I will be similarly afflicted, Filius. Neville… I will never be able to express the depth of my grief and remorse towards you and all the others. But for what it's worth, I am sorry."

 _Neville:_ "...Thank you, Headmistress. That does help, a little. But as I said, it's only been two days. It will take a lot of time, and a lot of apologies. I'm not the only one who needs to hear it."

 _McGonagall:_ "I know."

 _Shacklebolt_ : "Neville, you have been very helpful… I don't think any of us have considered that perspective before now, as we have been caught up in our own grief and jobs in the aftermath. Thank you for your wisdom and bravery in speaking out."

 _Jones_ : "Yes, thank you. I understand your anger and loyalty, Neville, really I do, but now more than ever we have to be focused on our goals. Last time a war ended, many people escaped justice for war crimes simply based on the statement 'oh not her, she could never do such a thing' and later ended up joining Voldemort and committing worse crimes. We cannot let that happen again."

 _Neville_ : "But, it's Padma -"

 _Jones:_ "Who she is does not matter compared to what she has done."

 _Neville:_ "Actually, ma'am, I think who she is matters more than anything else. Especially compared to what she may have done."

 _Shacklebolt:_ "You have given us a lot to think about, Neville. But Auror Jones is right, we must remain focused. We need to know without a shadow of a doubt that Padma did not kill Parvati before we can move on. You were called here to be a character witness for Padma. So now I ask you to think upon all that you know to be true about her character, past and present, and answer this question: do you think Padma killed Parvati?"

 _Neville:_ "No."

 _Jones:_ "Can you prove that?"

 _Neville_ : "...No. But neither can you."

* * *

 **[END OF TRANSCRIPT EXCERPTS]**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Wow, this chapter was SO hard to write. I don't know how many times I rewrote and edited it before I was moderately satisfied, but nothing is worse than over-editing (besides under-editing) and I finally had to stop myself and publish it now or else it never would have gotten posted. Anyway, I hope this format wasn't too hard to follow, but this is how I wanted to write it. I hope you guys are still keeping up with me, we've got a lot more ground to cover! I mean, good Lord, we aren't even done with the trial.**

 **Next chapter: Luna! (and perhaps even more…)**

 **Follow/Favorite/REVIEW! Also, check out my new story, "Black Girl Magic"**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I don't know if you guys get updated when I replace a chapter, but if yes, you don't have to bother rereading. It's just some minor grammatical and spelling corrections I missed because I'm lazy. Carry on!**

* * *

Filius Flitwick needed a good stiff drink. He had never been one to overindulge - at least not since he was quite a bit younger - but the past year had did a number on his resolve. He had met the end of each increasingly long and difficult day with a generous glass of firewhiskey. Just one, mind you, as even though he bought into the benefits of beverage therapy, he could not afford to lose his wits during those tense times.

He had been allowed to remain an instructor at Hogwarts after Voldemort's rise to power, probably thanks to Severus, but his partial goblin ancestry gave him no latitude with the Dark Lord's prejudiced followers. Filius' Darker colleagues like the Carrows had treated him as a slightly more intelligent House Elf, which he obviously found degrading, but he was not head of Ravenclaw house for no reason; Filius had always been an excellent strategist thanks to being a national wizard chess champion, and back in the day he had been quite the thespian. He played the role the Death Eaters gave him and he did a smashing job of it, because it allowed him to stay at Hogwarts, and try to help his students however he could.

And if he needed a bit of drink each evening to get him through the next day, Filius did not think that to be so bad.

So after that horrible brutal battle which he miraculously survived, all Filius wanted was a toast of celebration and memorial with his surviving colleagues and to finally feel safe and content among his friends and comrades.

He had been seeking out Minerva to do just that, only to find out one of his own Ravenclaw students had been accused of murder! And Padma Patil, of all people! He had nearly shattered a perfectly good bottle of firewhiskey when he found out if not for his excellent magical reflexes.

Of course Filius did not believe the accusation. He had known Padma for almost seven years! She had always been such a dear girl; never a bad word said against her or against others from her own lips. A bit shy and quiet to be sure, but an exceptional student with quite a lot of potential. Filius wasn't supposed to have favorites among his students (of course all the professors did), but he had always had a soft spot for Padma. She was not capable of murder.

...at least, that's what Filius kept trying to convince himself. Sitting in the headmistress' office listening to Madam Pomfrey's damning testimony and Zacharias' biased but unfortunately consistent account, he remembered everyone he used to think were good people that had committed unspeakable acts during this second war. He thought of himself, a professor of Hogwarts and loyal friend of the late Albus Dumbledore, tempted many a time in the past year to use Dark magic in the name of Light.

He had managed to resist the temptation… Except once. He had encountered Amycus Carrow tormenting a terrified half blood first year late at night. Filius had of course intervened, only for Carrow to try to force him to perform the Cruciatus curse on the child. Filius had looked into those tear-filled eyes, and without hesitating he cast the Imperius curse on Amycus and forced the Death Eater to leave the child alone before erasing his memory of the night's events.

Filius had always believed he would never willingly perform an Unforgivable curse or erase someone's memories. But in less than five minutes, he did both.

He thought of that night now as he sat in row with Minerva, Kingsley, and Hestia preparing to decide the fate of a girl he _thought_ was incapable of murder. After this past year, Filius wasn't sure he knew himself anymore... so how could he claim to know Padma?

Filius felt quite bleak as they began to call in the character witnesses, starting with Cho Chang. Interacting with the young woman did not help this feeling, Cho had not been dissimilar to Padma in the early years of her schooling: smart, sweet, and lovely. She had always been very confident and self-assured but without being arrogant or vain, she had a elegant restraint about her reminiscent of her mother, Xiaoli Chang née Song, whom Filius had the pleasure of encountering on occasion before the rise of the Dark Lord.

But ever since the tragic death of rising star Cedric Diggory, Cho's own light had seemed to dim. The girl he saw now after three years of heartache and hardship was a timid, fearful girl who barely spoke above a whisper and constantly glanced over her shoulder. There were flashes of her former brilliance, moments where she seemed as brave and bright as she had always been, but they always quickly faded.

As Kingsley's deep and gentle voice coaxed answers from Cho like Hagrid trying to soothe an orphaned unicorn foal, Filius gave his student encouraging smiles and nods whilst trying to hide his growing sadness and guilt. It was not his fault, these past years of unrest; as a logical man Filius knew that to be fact, but emotions are notoriously illogical and Filius (along with many other professors and parents he knew) felt an abstract sense of self-directed anger and regret that he hadn't recognized the signs earlier or taken more action sooner or just _done something_ to prevent this… tragedy beyond adequate description.

Filius resolutely pushed those irrational thoughts away. This was no time to dwell in the bitterness of hindsight; this right here and now was _not_ about him. It was about Padma, and Parvati. He could wallow in blame and alcohol later.

Neville's testimony was quite the opposite experience from Cho. Rather than witnessing the diminishing of a strong young woman into a frightened creature with a weakened disposition, he now got to see a young man once feared to be a squib now a strong and powerful wizard and leader in his own right. Filius was quite conflicted. He was fair to bursting with pride for who Neville had become, but deeply remorseful that it was the failings of the government, his generation, and even himself that had forced the transformation of a once sweet and mild-mannered boy into a fearsome, battle-hardened, and world-wearied soldier.

But even as Neville's curses and condemnations fell upon Filius and his peers like increasingly painful blows, he took comfort in the hope that sprouted in his heart. Perhaps there was meaning to all this tragedy beyond the final defeat of Voldemort, if it brought about something as seemingly small but still unmeasurably significant as Neville's newfound fire.

Now, Filius had never claimed to be a seer, but as he sat there under a wave of grief and remorse brought on by Neville's righteous anger, he gazed into the boy - no, the man's clear green eyes blazing bright in a bruised face, and for just half of a heartbeat he could see an older and happier Neville. His hands were darkened from years of gardening, a wedding band gleamed on his left ring finger, he was wearing the robes of a Hogwarts professor and a confident, content smile glowed on his matured face.

The vision was gone as soon as it came, stealing Filius' breath and bringing tears to his eyes. Maybe it was nothing more than the wistful meanderings of an old man's tired mind, but he clung to that vision of Neville - that vision of _hope,_ of _happiness,_ of a _future_ \- and held on for all he was worth.

There was hope for Neville. He had to believe there was also hope for Padma.

* * *

"Your turn, Luna."

Padma and Luna looked up at the sound of Neville's voice. He looked emotionally and physically exhausted, but his eyes were calm. Padma thought it odd how she had never noticed the fear that always lurked in his gaze until it was finally gone. The peace she saw now, tinged with sorrow, slowly growing like the first rays of dawn after a starless night, brought her both feelings of comfort and envy. Neville had fought his battle, and won. Padma was glad for him but the contrast he provided made her realize her battle was perhaps only beginning.

Luna smiled at him and rose gracefully with one last gentle touch to Padma's wrist. "I'll be right back." She said airily, as if she was simply off to the loo. Padma's lips turned up slightly at the thought of Luna treating something as serious as a murder trial like a trip to the toilet. Only Luna could do such a thing tastefully, if it were possible.

As the blonde quite literally skipped away, Padma's gaze naturally returned to Neville, only to find him gazing after Luna with an almost dazed expression on his face. Padma's eyebrows shot up. She recognized that look. She had seen it on many boys left unbalanced in the wake of Parvati's dazzling beauty and wicked flirtations.

A laugh escaped her quite suddenly. Startled, Neville glanced back at Padma and promptly turned bright red as he realized he had been caught mooning after Luna. But to his credit and growth, he didn't stutter or deny, he simply grinned sheepishly and shrugged helplessly. "What can I say? I'm mad for her." He admitted easily, simply happy to be the cause of Padma's brief good humor even at the cost of his own embarrassment.

Padma decided to indulge in this delightfully adorable distraction. "Have you told her?" She asked.

Neville took Luna's place beside her and shook his head ruefully. "Hasn't been a lot of time."

Padma rolled her eyes at him. "Right, it's not like you were locked in room with her for half a year."

Neville fiddled awkwardly with the edge of her sleeve. "Well, actually, I don't think I liked her - er, in that way - when we were all in the Room of Requirement. Then she disappeared over the winter holidays, and well… I missed her and was nearly mad with worry for her, but I was preoccupied with other things."

The poor man looked so guilty, Padma wished she had never asked. She remembered all too clearly everything that Neville had done for Dumbledore's Army and really the Wizarding World as a whole, including risking his life over and over. "Like keeping yourself and the rest of us alive." She offered gently. "Don't blame yourself, Neville. I know Luna doesn't."

Her words didn't seem to comfort him. Instead he looked positively wretched. "I wanted to go after her so badly." He finally burst out, Padma blinking in surprise as more words tumbled out. "I wanted to go after all of them, really, Luna and Dean and the everyone else. But I was never brave… I was never the hero who swooped in and rescued the damsel. That was always Harry. But Harry wasn't here to rescue us, and someone had to, so I took over and then I couldn't rescue Luna because I couldn't leave Hogwarts and the DA to fend for themselves and... well, I'm sorry I ever envied Harry." Neville abruptly ended his babbled confession with a short, humorless laugh. "I maybe only experienced a tenth of the burden he's carried his whole life, and I could barely survive it." Neville sighed heavily and ran a hand through his already-tousled hair. "Still can't believe I survived at all, really."

Padma was quite speechless. She had known Neville for years, even if from afar, and had no idea he ever envied Harry. Perhaps at the beginning of this terrible year, everyone had wished Harry was there to help them revolt against Snape and the Carrows, herself included. But it was promptly very apparent that Harry wasn't coming back anytime soon, and Neville had so quickly stepped up and taken charge - quite frankly in a way Harry never had, making the war a community effort rather than a burden to carry alone, that all thoughts of Harry fled their minds beyond wishing for the scarred boy's safety and eventual return.

"Hmm." She finally said aloud. "I don't think you should have ever envied Harry, in fact I think he should envy _you_." Neville glanced at her, incredulous. "No, really," She insisted, warming to the topic as memories of Neville's selfless courage and compassion flooded her brain, numbing her own torment. "You were there for all of us in a way Harry never was. Harry was always so secretive and strange, keeping things to himself… with the exception of Ron and Hermione, maybe. I don't know how he handled being the Chosen One all alone all those years. Maybe that's because that's all he's ever known, being an orphan and all." She reasoned, trying not to sound tactless. Neville didn't seem offended on Harry's behalf, indeed he was listening intently, so she went on.

"Seems to me like it would have been a lot easier to defeat all those creatures and villains he faced if he had more help. As brilliant as Hermione is and as brave as Ron is, that must have been so hard." Padma was quick to add, "Obviously, they did it and did it quite heroically, but…" here her voice quite small as she felt words rising to her lips that she had never given to the air. Once said, she could never take them back. Only Neville's kind and curious face kept her speaking.

"...sometimes I wonder if maybe not so many people would have died, if Harry had more help sooner."

The words were barely above a whisper, but they seemed so deafeningly loud that Padma physically shrank away and peeked carefully at Neville for his reaction.

Her friend (Padma would never remember this as the moment she began to consciously think of Neville as her friend, as it had been so gradual and natural it was as if they had always been friends. War can forge the most unusual of bonds) didn't look furious or horrified, in fact he didn't even look surprised. Instead, he sagged as if under a great weight, and the peace in his eyes twisted like an angry ghost was haunting them. Padma immediately felt terrible for bringing him any pain and opened her mouth to apologize or retract her statement, anything, but he spoke before she could.

"Sometimes I wonder that too." The words were also whispered, and anchored with chains of guilt and grief that echoed deeply of anger and bitterness. They hung in the air and wrapped around the pair of people suspended between childhood and adulthood, and as long as they existed in the air neither of them could speak.

Oddly enough, it was the Ravenclaw who worked up the courage to speak first, rather than the Gryffindor. "I meant what I said before, Neville." Padma said softly and sincerely, not quite comfortable enough to offer him physical touch as comfort, but warming her voice to hopefully bring the same feeling. "Don't blame yourself. You did everything you could and more, and so did Harry, for good or for ill. You can't change how it was done, but you can change your life moving forward. I think you deserve to make those changes good ones."

Neville smiled crookedly at her, eyes once again calm. "Thanks Padma. I think you deserve that too… even though Parvati is gone now."

Padma swallowed hard as her determination to make Neville feel better was threatened by the tumult inside of her. She managed to nod, but it felt mechanical. She wanted to take his words to heart, but the grief was too fresh. Logically, she knew he was right and that she would have to move on and live her life as best she could, but nothing was logical anymore now that Parvati was gone. The future, happiness, life beyond this ludicrous patchwork quilt of a murder trial... it all seemed like such abstract faraway things. Like looking at a photograph of a place you've visited before. She knew how she used to feel when she was there, but it was more memory than truth now.

This thought was quickly followed by the brutal battering ram of a realization that _Parvati_ was now more memory than truth.

Padma blinked away tears and desperately grabbed back for that sense of purpose speaking to Neville about Luna had given her. "You know, I could put in a good word for you with Luna." She tossed out, the attempt at friendly banter falling clunky and awkward between them.

But Neville graciously allowed her the escape from more serious conversation and chuckled readily at her lame humor. "Please, be my guest, if you can find a way to spin the reality of a bumbling fool of wizard who was never good at magic beyond herbology, who didn't rescue her from captivity, got himself set on fire with a magic hat and the only real heroic act he ever did was turning a bloody snake into sushi with a magic sword."

Padma couldn't help it, she laughed, but quickly rebuffed his self-deprecating rant. "Don't you dare speak of yourself that way, Neville Longbottom!" She commanded him sternly despite the amused smirk on her lips. "Any girl would be lucky to have you! You are brave and loyal and a leader! You are kind and heroic and bloody brilliant at magic and the best friend anyone could ask for! And I think you looked quite handsome in that hat even though you were being incinerated and as for the sushi -" she paused, then finished with an impish grin, "Girls love a bloke that can cook."

Neville blinked at her in shock, then his lips trembled and they both fell apart in helpless laughter. They laughed perhaps more than necessary for the jest itself, but it was definitely necessary for their beleaguered souls. If she had been paying any attention, Padma would have felt her heart heal just the _slightest_ bit, simply by engaging in a good laugh with a good friend.

"You sounded so much like Parvati in that moment it was right scary." Neville said as his merriment faded, a smile still full on his face. "But I don't think even Parvati was ever that clever - 'girls love a bloke who can cook', _honestly_." Then his face froze in horror as he realized he was talking to the surviving twin of the dead girl he had just so casually thrown into the conversation.

Padma could not honestly say that his comment didn't salt her wounds, but she bravely ignored the feeling and just nodded with an understanding, forgiving smile in his direction.

Bolstered by her reaction, Neville added mischievously. "I fancied your sister for awhile, you know."

This was news to Padma. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really." He confirmed. "How could I not? I think every bloke in the school fancied her at one time or another, but she hardly gave anyone the time of day. This last year though… it was really something, watching her become such a fighter. She was positively bewitching. I've never seen someone so bold and _brave._ " They both took a moment to grieve at the memory his words caused, Padma more deeply and completely than Neville, who could continue after just a second of silence while Padma was still struggling to breathe. "But it was more of an admiration from afar, really. I don't think I ever gave up on Luna to really fully fancy someone else, and Parvati was always more into Seamus I think."

Padma was startled at the name. "Seamus," she breathed, remembering her sister gradually confiding her growing feelings for the daredevil Irish boy with the roguish grin and loud unapologetic opinions. No one had ever made Parvati as utterly furious as that boy, which was how Padma knew that this crush was different. Parvati had never cared enough about a boy to be so angry before.

In her own sudden onslaught of all-consuming grief at Parvati's death, she had not once stopped to think about how anyone could be feeling. "Seamus… is he…"

"He's alive." Neville assured her, and maybe also himself. "The bloke has blown himself up so many times Voldemort himself probably wouldn't have been able to kill him," he muttered with the same admiring exasperation that Padma had felt when Parvati was being reckless. "He's like a bloody cockroach."

Padma snorted at the description. Then she sobered again. "I'm sure she would have told me, but did they ever…" she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.

Neville turned a particularly vivid shade of pink. "Um - er - I don't think - well, that is -" he coughed and looked away.

Padma's sharp mind quickly caught up to where his thoughts had gone and she promptly blushed too. "Oh! Gods, Neville, _no_ , that is _not_ what I meant." She rushed to correct him, utterly mortified and slightly disgusted at thinking of her own twin having an amorous affair with _Seamus Finnigan,_ the boy who had once spit-balled Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into her hair. "I just meant did they, I don't know, at least confess to each other? Did they ever get to be more than friends?"

"Ah," Neville said in a greatly relieved voice. "Er, no, I don't think so. In fact, I'm pretty positive they never got that far in their feelings, or Seamus would have been bloody unbearable to live with. He could hardly shut up about her as it was, I can't imagine what it would have been like if they were actually an _item._ "

"Yeah," Padma agreed. "They would have been all over each other." Her sisterly revulsion at the thought quickly faded into an inexplicable sadness, because now Parvati and Seamus would never get to see what they might have become. Padma was almost entirely sure Parvati hadn't been in love with Seamus, but she definitely could have reached that point. _She never got to experience her first love._ Padma thought, again fighting back tears. If Parvati, the most loving and lovable person who had ever existed, never got to share her heart with someone, what hope was there for the rest of the world?

Neville must have gone down a similar path in his thoughts for he was staring at the floor in sympathetic, frustrated sorrow. "I guess they thought they had more time." He muttered.

"So did I."

The words left Padma before she could think them, but the utter and despairing truth in them broke her apart, and she gasped out a single sob before it was too painful even to cry. She was crippled by her grief in that moment.

Neville didn't try to hug her or even touch her, but he stayed there with her until her body slowly unclenched and her shoulders stopped shaking from the force of her crying spasms. "You should tell Luna." Her voice came out like gravel but she forced the words from her ribcage, convinced of their utmost importance.

Neville didn't tease or deny, he simply nodded gravely. "I will." He vowed, but it was more than simply a promise to speak to their friend about his feelings for her, though Padma didn't know this. It was a promise not to take time with people for advantage anymore, it was a promise not to squander his possible happiness because of fear. Maybe Luna wasn't his forever happiness, but she was worth it to try, and so was he.

After a few minutes of somber silence, Neville ventured to speak again. "Seamus is… he's taking Parvati's death pretty hard. Maybe you ought to speak to him about it. He might understand better than most of us; besides you, of course, he might have cared the most about Parvati."

Padma was briefly and irrationally gripped by anger at the thought of anyone coming remotely close to feeling what she felt for her sister, but she quickly squashed that feeling as that warm and gentle whisper flickered inside her. Parvati would want her to talk to Seamus, so she would. Maybe it would help after all.

"I will." She echoed Neville's earlier words, though they lacked the same gravity. "If I don't end up in Azkaban for murdering her." In the sudden shocked silence that followed her muttered statement, like the moment after a door being slammed shut, Padma wondered if she had actually lost her mind or just lost control of her tongue. Words seemed to be traipsing straight from her heart off her lips and into the air without stopping to check with her brain first.

Maybe it wasn't just her heart that broke. Maybe Parvati's death broke her brain too.

"Don't. Say. That." Neville nearly snarled, his voice startling in its vehemence to the point of being frightening. "You're _not_ going to Azkaban because you're _innocent_." There wasn't even a hint of doubt in his statement. Padma was overcome with emotion, feeling utterly undeserving of his loyalty. Then, much quieter but no less forceful, he said, "I'm not losing another friend."

"But," Padma nearly swallowed her tongue to stop the next words from getting out, but more from surprise as pale blonde curls flashed in her field of vision.

 _But what if I'm_ not _innocent?_

"Luna!" Neville's voice was immediately so bright and warm, Padma was one hundred percent convinced Luna had to already know about his feelings for her. One could call Luna many things, but oblivious was not one of them (not to people that knew her anyway).

But Luna merely smiled in that playful yet serene way of hers and said, "Hello Neville. It was very kind of you to stay with Padma while I was gone. I knew you would, of course, you're a very kind person. But it's still nice to see my hopes confirmed."

Neville grinned.

"...you're like seeing a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in person." Luna finished grandly.

Padma quickly pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, more at Luna's non sequitur than her belief in probably imaginary animals. But Neville didn't look the least bit amused or befuddled as people often were by Luna. Instead he was beaming like he had just personally received the House Cup.

"I'm honored to be compared to your favorite magical creature." He said, to Luna and Padma's surprise. "But when you find one, you'll probably be disappointed that I don't measure up." He joked.

Luna blinked. "When?"

"Well, sure," Neville shrugged easily. "Of course you're going to find one and prove it's existence. You're going to be the best wizarding naturalist that ever existed. You probably already are."

Padma watched with delight as Luna's large silvery eyes slowly widened until they nearly took up all of her small thin face. She was looking at Neville as if she _were_ seeing a Crumple-Horned Snorkack for the very first time. Neville's goofy smile faded slightly into something a little bit nervous and hopeful.

"Thank you Neville." Luna said in a small voice that sounded less dreamy than ever before. Then the wonderment left her features, replaced by thoughtfulness, and she said something rather unusual (even for her). "I probably won't find one someday. I'm rather smart," she said without an ounce of conceit, "and I think that Daddy made up Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. But I think it's good to believe in things you will never be able to prove. Otherwise no one would have any faith at all, and that's no way to live. So.. even if they most likely aren't, I think I'll go on believing they're real." She finished in that matter-of-fact way that was always more profound than dramatic declarations.

Neville smiled at her. "Well I'm real." He offered.

Luna stared at him, speechless for once. Then the dreamiest smile Padma had ever seen on her drifted across her face like a butterfly coming to rest on a flower.

Padma could practically hear Parvati squealing at their collective adorableness, and she felt her sister's absence as tangibly as the still-unhealed wound in her side. It was awfully strange that the moment she missed Parvati the most desperately so far was also in the happiest moment since her death.

 _Is this how it will be from now on?_ Padma thought dreadfully, trying not to make a single sound or facial expression so as not to ruin her friends' moment of revelation. _Any future happiness of mine will always be tainted by your absence, Vati?_

She didn't know what she expected, but it certainly wasn't for Parvati to respond, in more of a feeling than a sound.

 _No. Not always. Just until you know that you are strong enough to be happy without me._

Padma didn't feel like crying. She just felt hollow. _I don't think I'll ever be strong enough to be without you, Vati._

 _You already are._

Then the feeling was gone, leaving Padma colder than before.

"Oh, Luna," Neville was saying, a pink tinge to his cheeks from something much different than embarrassment. "Um, how did it go in there?" He said with a quick glance to gauge Padma's reaction to his question. She kept her face neutral but also turned her eyes to Luna in inquiry.

"Quite well." Luna responded as if speaking about the weather and not Padma's fate. "I was able to make a Floo Call."

"Floo Call?" Neville repeated blankly. Padma shared his confusion but said nothing.

"Oh, yes." Luna said with a smile that was almost devious. "Headmistress McGonagall was very nice to let me use her fire, and she asked me to tell you to please come in, Padma." She added with an encouraging smile. "I thought they ought to wait a little bit, since they've made you wait so long out here, but now I think it's time for you to go."

Padma somehow found herself on her feet, facing in the right direction, but then she was completely paralyzed. She had forgotten how to speak. Her mouth felt like sand and her lungs felt like stone. Her body felt like glass, like any sudden or wrong movement would shatter her. She almost wished that were the case. Then she would be dead, with Parvati, and not here, standing alone on the precipice of her salvation, or her doom.

Fluttering warmth, like a candle flame or a firefly. _Don't be so melodramatic, Addie. You're not going to die, and you're not alone._

Somehow, Padma knew Parvati's voice wasn't speaking of herself. Padma turned and met Luna and Neville, who were living and breathing and _there_. Neville looked grave, but Luna looked quite unconcerned. "It's okay, Padma, you can go. Just remember, whatever you say in there, that doesn't fully define what happens next. We've all spoken for you too, so whatever happens, you're not alone."

Those words, Parvati's and Luna's echoed in her skull in a hissing whisper that twisted into dizzying, frightening laughter that plucked at Padma's frayed edges and threatened to unravel her.

 _You're not alone._

* * *

 **Author's Note: I would like to address some questions I've gotten in reviews. The reason why Padma is not asking for veritaserum or a pensieve is because A) as explained in a previous chapter, Voldemort's regime used veritaserum excessively and there is now a shortage of the potion and the ingredients. B) also explained in another chapter, Shacklebolt is trying to avoid making the same post-war legal mistakes that previous ministers made which resulted in criminals going free and innocents going to Azkaban *cough cough Sirius Black*. And C) Padma doesn't know what a pensieve is. Harry didn't know what one was until Dumbledore told him, so I'm willing to bet pensieves and memory retrieval is not common procedure for the wizarding judicial system - probably a secret from the public, like Time Turners, which Dumbledore also possessed (the old guy seemed to have a habit of hoarding potentially useful magical items away from the Ministry to then dole out to those he deemed worthy… an understandable habit given Fudge's incompetence, but I think it devolved into unnecessary and possibly harmful paranoia and secrecy).**

 **But my main reason for doing Padma's trial this way is that it's an interesting writing challenge, taking away the convenience of pensieves and veritaserum and examining how a magical wartime society without an active and reliable government body would handle having to conduct the trial of a minor accused of murder the Muggle way - relying only on witness accounts and the evidence that can be gathered. That is how our judicial system works. In the absence of an abundance of concrete evidence, we have to rely on people to tell the truth and make the right decisions. People with faulty memories, morals, and motives.**

 **P.S. I'll say it for all of us -** _ **when will she be done writing the trial?**_ **Excellent question. Wish I had an answer. I hope it's not too tedious yet and I'm still keeping you interested.**


	8. Chapter 8

Padma wasn't sure what she expected, but it ended up being quite straightforward… though no less traumatizing.

She walked into the office and was almost amused at the effort the adults had made to make the office look somewhat like an official courtroom or interrogation room. It was a rather obvious power play, having one armless chair sitting in the center of the room facing a row of chairs behind a table. Padma was extremely well-read in a number of subjects, fiction and nonfiction alike, and crime novels had always been a favorite of hers. She had once stumbled across a manual for wizarding forensic psychology and had found herself surprisingly captivated. Everything Auror Shacklebolt had set up here was straight out that book.

 _I guess he skipped chapter twenty-seven,_ Padma mused. That particular chapter covered alternative interrogation tactics depending on the suspect's personal profile. If they had given any thought to who Padma was as a person, they would have realized she would be much more susceptible to an informal setting. If they hadn't been so focused on driving home the seriousness of her situation, they would have perhaps realized a cushy armchair and a hot cup of tea with just _one_ adult would have had her chattering away like a Cornish pixie during mating season.

Padma was briefly curious as to why Professor Flitwick, who knew her quite well, had supported this obviously misguided show of force until she glanced in his direction in obviously bemused confusion and was rewarded with a very subtle wink. She almost felt like smiling. Maybe there was at least one person on her side in this room.

"Miss Patil." Auror Shacklebolt greeted her gravely. "Have a seat." _Wonderful start, sir._ Padma thought sardonically, though she acquiesced meekly and quietly. _Way to make me feel welcome and comfortable._ How on earth had this man become one of the top aurors and now was on a political fast track to become the next Minister of Magic?

She supposed his political savvy did not extend to include the politics of young women. He was unmarried for a reason, after all.

"We're ever so sorry for the wait, Padma." Professor Flitwick said kindly after she had sat down. "And I would like to extend my condolences for your loss, if I may presume. We have all felt grief on this day, but none so deeply and personally as yourself and for that I am unmeasurably sorry."

The intense sincerity in his familiar squeaky voice called up her own grief and she nodded wordlessly, unable to speak around the lump of emotion that was making itself quite at home in her throat recently. "Thank you Professor." She finally managed to whisper. His moustache quivered sympathetically.

Auror Shacklebolt shot her professor a glance that would probably be unreadable to most people, but was caught by Padma. "Yes…" He said slowly, before catching on. "The ministry would also like to express our sadness for you at the loss of your sister."

The auror's somewhat clumsy attempt at psychological manipulation through interior decoration had made her a bit paranoid and wary of his motives. That glance towards Flitwick and his subsequent failure to return the proceedings to their previous severity had caused a sharp voice to begin hissing in the back of her mind… a voice that didn't sound like Parvati at all.

 _Flitwick isn't your professor here. He's not here for you… he's here to make you feel comfortable where they cannot. While you are so focused on their ulterior motives, you will be vulnerable to his machinations. He's part Goblin. They're notoriously devious. Do not be fooled into falling into his trap._

Even as she felt the prickle of fear and betrayal begin tainting her perception of her professor, Padma tried to tamp it down. _Professor Flitwick isn't like that! He knows me. He knows I would never hurt Parvati. He's on my side._

 _Goblins are on nobody's side but their own._

She was utterly confused at this previously unknown side of her. She had never cared one way or another about Professor Flitwick's goblin ancestry other than the fact it helped make him who he is, and she had certainly never felt so consciously xenophobic about it. Those couldn't be _her_ thoughts, surely!

But if that voice wasn't Parvati and it wasn't her… then who was it?

"Before we begin, Padma," Shacklebolt continued in the same courteous tone the professor had so miraculously inspired in him, "I must inform you that Auror Jones will be recording our conversation via QuickNotes Quill. But don't worry, this is no Rita Skeeter quill." He said in a light voice that only made Padma's suspicion heavier. "Miss Jones will be watching it quite closely and everything will be one hundred percent accurate to what happens here. Now, I know all this procedure is awfully tiresome, so let's get it out of the way, shall we?" He almost smiled here, and Padma desperately wanted to roll her eyes. He really was laying it on quite thick. "The one thing I must insist on is your consent to being recorded, otherwise we can't take your statement… however, before you say yes or no, just try to remember that your testimony is very important to us and it would be to your advantage to consent."

Padma opened her mouth to say yes, because she was innocent and her testimony would prove that, but that whispering voice spoke up again.

 _Ask for legal counsel, foolish child! You are a minor! They can't be allowed to do any of this without proper representation for yourself._

Well, this voice may be a bit racist, but it was making some good points. "I have some of my own questions before we begin, Mr. Shacklebolt." She said coolly, purposefully choosing not to address him by his proper title. If they wanted to play games with her, she was going to play to win. "I am not yet seventeen, and you are not allowed to question me without the presence of my parents or my family lawyer." She narrowed her eyes and allowed a slightly satisfied smile to appear on her face. "However, my parents are missing. Unless you have somehow managed to locate them while fighting in a battle to the death, as well as spend the immediate aftermath of that battle accusing me of _murdering my own twin sister,_ then we have nothing more to discuss."

The four adults were speechless. Padma thought she heard a low chuckle from the shelf where the Sorting Hat was kept. Professor Flitwick's eyes twinkled proudly, and Headmistress McGonagall appeared to be both impressed and affronted. Auror Jones was blinking in unhidden surprise at this outburst of level-headed legal acuity from a previously trembling and traumatized child.

 _Don't cast all your spells yet, girl!_ The voice reprimanded her sharply. _They think you capable of murder, but they also want to believe your innocence. You must play the part they give you! Do not let them goad you into appearing selfish and cold. You must not let your grief overwhelm your mind, but you cannot let your mind hide your grief. You call yourself a Ravenclaw? Then act like one!_

Padma was more confused. The voice was right, she needed to act sadder… but it wasn't an act. She was extremely sad, to the point of being unable to physically function. But this voice was calling up thoughts and feelings that were numbing that grief and giving her brain room to breathe and maneuver. Why did she need to act different than she felt if she was innocent? Every feeling she was having was genuine because she was telling the truth!

These didn't feel like the thoughts of a Ravenclaw. They felt like the thoughts of a Slytherin.

Padma forced herself to ignore the tangled web in her mind and focus on the way Auror Shacklebolt's eyes had narrowed thoughtfully in her direction. The voice was right. He was not expecting this switch to logic where previously Padma had only displayed silent fearful sadness. She had to be careful. She had to be smarter.

However, it was McGonagall that answered her query. "How very prudent of you, Miss Patil." She said primly. "But I assure you, we have been quite thorough in addressing the legality of this. Perhaps this was previously unknown to you, but as Hogwarts is a boarding school, we are responsible for your day-to-day health and wellbeing."

 _Bloody good job you've been doing so far._ That thought was entirely Padma.

"Upon your enrollment seven years ago," McGonagall was saying, "Hogwarts requires parents and legal guardians to sign papers ensuring that in your absence, your head of house and headmaster - or headmistress, in my unfortunately fortuitous case - are given custody and power of attorney over you. We also require parents to renew these contracts before the beginning of each school year. Your parents happened to disappear after resigning the papers."

Padma listened as a dull feeling of horror gradually sunk into her stomach. "So… what you're saying is…"

"Is that Professor Flitwick and I are now your legal guardians until further notice, and have waived your right to counsel in light of present circumstances." She said firmly and without apology. "We have complete faith in Auror Shacklebolt's personal and political integrity in this situation. Therefore, what he is telling you is technically a formality. You don't have the right to refuse consent to being recorded. If Professor Flitwick and I say you must give it, then your personal preference is moot. However, this will all go much more smoothly if you cooperate fully, which you should be perfectly willing to do if you are innocent as you say." She regarded her student and apparent ward shrewdly.

 _Well, there goes the illusion of courtesy. Talk about casting all your spells._

Padma returned her headmistress' gaze with one of incredulous betrayal, unable to hide her expression amidst her shock. Why hadn't her parents ever told her this? Why hadn't the _school_ ever told her this? Was the denial of possible danger to Hogwarts so completely pervasive even after Dumbledore's death that it had saturated even the faculty of Hogwarts, who should know better than _anyone_ the high probability of peril?

 _Ugh._ Padma was also apparently not immune to the danger of catching McGonagall's penchant for alliteration.

(She wondered in the back of her mind if McGonagall had ever pursued a career in law enforcement herself. They probably could have used her skills a long time ago.)

Auror Shacklebolt was now regarding the headmistress with the look he had bequeathed Flitwick with earlier. He seemed unable to decide if the new (or old, rather) tone to the conversation was favorable or not. But, he wasn't a politician for nothing and adaptability was paramount to survival in the Ministry of Magic.

Flitwick took the reins once again, apparently unintimidated by the presence of two people who greatly outranked him. "Alright, let's all remain civil. I'm sorry to say, Padma, that the Headmistress is correct on all accounts. As a minor, we are responsible for you, and it is not a responsibility we take lightly. In turn, I believe it is your responsibility to cooperate, as the Headmistress said, so that this will be a quick and painless as a healing spell."

If Flitwick was expecting a response from the mild-mannered innocent little girl he had taught before this war, the girl who never broke a rule or spoke against a professor, he was greatly mistaken. The hissing voice had not just quieted her grief, it also was funneling her a fierce and sudden surge of anger.

"It seems to be a responsibility you have all taken _very_ lightly." She snapped suddenly, feeling her eyes _burn_ from the force of the rage that was rushing through her. It was drowning every thought and feeling besides raw and wrenching fury, flooding her veins and illuminating every crack and hole Parvati's death had left inside her. It rose in her throat, dissolving the ever-present lump and spilling from her lips in a torrent of words.

" _Responsible?_ Where was this responsibility when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and a giant bloody _monster_ was petrifying students left and right? When Ginny Weasley was _kidnapped_ and almost died? When Sirius Black, an _escaped convict,_ infiltrated Hogwarts itself? Where was it when _Voldemort_ came back and _killed Cedric Diggory_? Where was your _responsibility_ when Umbridge - a _ministry official_ \- became a _teacher_ here and tormented students during detention? Where was it when a _Death Eater killed Albus Dumbledore_? When the Death Eaters took over Hogwarts and _tortured_ us for a year while you stood by and did _nothing_? When two days ago _we_ were forced to _fight and die_ for your bloody _responsibility_?"

She was literally trembling from the power of her anger. Her eyes and palms felt like they were burning from glaring and clenching her fists. " _Responsible?_ " The word came out in a feral snarl. "You claim to be _responsible_ for me? Fine! Then you must also take responsibility for _Parvati._ And if you are responsible for me and her, then _you are responsible for her DEATH!"_ Padma found herself on her feet without remembering standing up, and she wondered why her throat hurt until she realized the room was still echoing with the sound of her screams.

In the next second, it was as if the entire world was holding its breath, creatures both living and dead. If her words had been magic, the entire castle would be dust at her feet. And in that second, Padma wished with all her heart that it was. She wanted everyone and everything to feel what she was feeling, to be subject to the rage and pain that threatened to tear her apart at any moment. Parvati was dead, and _they should all be dead too._

Though that second of breathless and terrible power felt like an eternity to everyone in the room, time passed at the same relentless rate it always had and the next second it was all over and Padma felt her anger disappear as abruptly as it had arrived, and only the quaking of her body and fresh bleeding of her heart gave evidence that it had ever happened in the first place.

Padma was nothing less than horrified at herself, but she found herself without regret. In all honesty, she felt... hollow _._ Her anger had overwhelmed her, but it had also been so exhilarating. It had made her feel more alive than anything else had since Parvati died.

And that scared her to death.

There was a blur of spring breeze, of floating flower petals and soft sunlight. The lingering heat receded from her hands and eyes and an indescribable feeling of _Parvati_ filled the emptiness inside her, stilling her limbs and quieting her soul. _I may be dead, but you are alive. And you are not alone._

Her cheeks were suddenly wet with tears that fell even before Padma could feel sadness, but she quickly wiped them away and slowly sat down.

The aurors and the professors looked exactly as shaken as Padma felt, if not more. They were also regarding her with no small modicum of wariness and even fear, like one would when faced with a mother dragon guarding her nest (or Ron Weasley's table manners at mealtime). Padma glanced at Professor Flitwick out of habit. Years of seeing him as her immediate authority and ally could not be undone in five minutes, even five minutes as intense as these.

He did not look quite as unsure of her as the others. Indeed, he looked very tired and sad and old, older than the spry little man who gave new meaning to the phrase 'larger than life' had ever looked. Tears were shining in his small eyes. "You're right, Padma, you're right about all of it. We are responsible for this."

His words sounded exactly like a broken heart feels, but even the gentleness of Parvati inside of Padma could not make her feel sorry for him. She did however, deeply appreciate his sincerity and acknowledgment of their failure, belated and futile though it may be.

The other voice said something, and in the wake of her eruption, Padma did not have the energy of presence of mind to stop herself from speaking it aloud. "Then I don't understand why I am on trial."

And there was Shacklebolt and McGonagall, quickly recovering from any impact Padma's tirade had on them and honing in on her sudden focus on the trial.

 _Oh, brilliant._ Padma wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or the voice at this point but was too frustrated to care. _Way to prove your case, Patil. You really seem innocent now._

"The trial. Indeed." Those three words in Shacklebolt's voice held a multitude of other sentences. "I think we've more than covered where we all stand on the matter of the trial itself. It's time to proceed. Miss Patil, tell us exactly what happened during the battle. How did your sister die?"

 _How did your sister die?_

For a moment, the headmaster's office disappeared, and all Padma could see was light. A terrible deadly violet, then shimmering gold and rose, then ugly green sick with gray and black. Then the light faded… but then came the voices.

* * *

 _Patils! Blood traitors! Crucio!_

 _...Pad...ma…_

 _...No, no… I have to save you…_

 _...Padma… I'm not going to make it…_

 _...I need you…_

 _...I love you Padma..._

 _AVADA KEDAVRA!_

 _...Parvati.. Please…_

* * *

"Bellatrix Lestrange." As haunted as she was, entranced in her own memories, Padma didn't realize she had spoken out loud until Hestia Jones responded, speaking directly to Padma for the first time.

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" The all-too-familiar name in the unfamiliar voice shook her loose from the flashback. She blinked as the female auror's face came into focus, wrinkled in confusion. "What does she have to do with anything?"

Padma felt something like excitement light up like flickering candles inside her. _Bellatrix Lestrange!_ The insane Death Eater infamous for her terrorism and sadism, and who was personally responsible for the deaths of dozens of people in both wars! Why hadn't Padma brought her up sooner? How could anyone believe her guilty of killing Parvati in comparison to the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange?

This time, she was completely in control of her own thoughts and words. "We were fighting her." She said, keeping her voice slow and steady. She needed them to believe this. "In the battle, she saw us and recognized us as blood traitors. She cast the Cruciatus curse and I was hit by it." Padma rubbed her arm absently, trying not to remember the electric shocks that had turned her muscles to water and her bones to ash. "While I was down, Parvati started duelling her alone."

The adults all looked deeply impressed by Parvati's bravery, as they had been sympathetic to Padma's torture. She took this as a good sign and bravely continued. "Then Bellatrix almost hit Parvati with the killing curse and I was able to get up and fight back. We duelled her together, watching each other's backs, just like we were doing for the whole battle… just like we've done all our lives." She couldn't stop herself from trailing off into an emotional whisper. She hated how her voice cracked at the end. She wanted to be strong for Parvati; she didn't want to show them how weak she was inside.

Auror Shacklebolt's deep voice was very low and gentle, and it sounded genuine. "What happened next?"

Padma closed her eyes, unable to look at them for the next part of her story, but unable to face the wretched memory of her own failure. "It was my fault." The words tore from her throat in a sob, and tears yet again spilled from her eyes. She welcomed the pain of crying. "I tripped." The casual words tasted bitter on her tongue for how they failed to represent the horror of the reality. "Parvati stopped fighting to help me up, and in that one second where neither of us were duelling, Bellatrix cast a spell. It was purple."

She suddenly recalled that purple had been Parvati's favorite color, and the cruelty of that realization turned her lungs to iron and made it impossible to speak or breathe for a moment.

"You didn't hear what the spell was?" Again, it was Hestia Jones that brought her back. But this time, it wasn't confusion, it was skepticism. "You only saw the color?"

Padma nodded.

Jones glanced at her auror colleague, who didn't look back at her but explained to Padma nonetheless. "Bellatrix Lestrange was an extremely powerful witch, but she was not known for nonverbal spellcasting. I know of few powerful curses that can be cast nonverbally, and none of them create purple magic."

Padma tried to fight the feeling of helplessness. She was telling the truth! How could they doubt her story just because she didn't hear one silly word? Would they have been paying attention to their bloody ears when they thought they were going to die and all they could see was their twin sister's beautiful, terrified eyes?

"Bellatrix may not have been _known_ for her nonverbal spellcasting, but that does not mean she was _unable_." Flitwick countered the aurors immediately and calmly. "Often during intense duels words become obsolete in favor of instinct. Just because the spell is not known to us does not mean it does not exist."

"Was it this spell that killed Parvati?" Hestia Jones asked Padma, instead of responding to Flitwick.

Padma quickly and vehemently shook her head. Now was her chance. But right as she was going to speak, a wayward thread of chaotic logic weaved its way into her train of thought. "Yes. I mean, no!" Padma immediately cursed herself. Where did that come from?

Auror Jones seized on her inconsistency like a dog with a bone. "Yes or no, Padma, which one is it? Did Bellatrix Lestrange kill your sister?"

 _Yes!_

But the word died before it could be said, as that thread of logic grew and planted despair in her heart. "No…" Damn it, why couldn't she stop herself from speaking? It was like she had been slipped a tainted dose of veritaserum, that meant she spoke without knowing if what she said was truth or lies! The despair took root and choked her insides like a thorny weed, blooming with doubt. If she did not know her own mind anymore, how could they?

"I mean, Parvati was still alive after the spell hit us. But we were both injured terribly. That's how I got this wound in my stomach… and something went wrong with the spell, I think, because the light turned white and it felt like an explosion, and Bellatrix was also on the ground with us." Padma tried to explain the strange phenomenon she wasn't even sure she remembered clearly.

"You're claiming you killed Bellatrix Lestrange?" Hestia Jones was nothing short of incredulous.

"No!" Padma exclaimed, frustrated beyond belief. They were missing the point! "She was still - wait." A sudden thought brought everything else to a screeching halt. "Did she die?" In the whirlwind following Parvati's death, she had not given one thought to the fate of the witch who might have caused it.

She was abruptly and severely nauseous at the possibility that _Bellatrix Lestrange_ might still be alive while Parvati was not.

Headmistress McGonagall answered. "Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange is dead. But she died during a duel with none other than Molly Weasley, not after duelling you and your sister. No one seems to have witnessed her fighting with you at all, in fact."

Padma barely registered her professor's expression of doubt. She absorbed the news of Bellatrix's death, and wasn't sure how to feel. The strangest thing of all, however, was that she felt exactly like she had upon the realization that Parvati was dead. Not sad, not at all, just… disbelieving. It didn't seem possible that Bellatrix Lestrange could be dead anymore than Parvati being dead. It still felt like they… _existed,_ somehow. She could still feel Parvati's presence in the world, in a twisted distorted way, and she also still felt the prickle of evil that came from knowing Bellatrix Lestrange was there in the same world she was.

But Padma didn't have time to examine that troubling bit of psychology. She had to keep going. "No, I know we didn't kill her. Bellatrix was still alive after casting her spell, I just think she was injured like us. Then -" She managed to stop herself, along with the reappearance of the voice that-wasn't-Parvati.

 _You can't tell them about the lights. You can't tell them about Parvati stabbing you with her wand._

 _But I have to! They'll never believe me if I don't!_

 _They'll never believe you if you do!_

Paralyzed by indecision, Padma could only stare at the people sitting across from her with wide eyes.

"Then?" Flitwick prompted encouragingly, and perhaps just a bit worried.

"Then…" Padma gave up on trying to control her every word. It clearly wasn't working, and she probably couldn't do anymore damage than she already had. So she just started to talk and hoped for the best. "Then, I blacked out. I don't remember anything else."

 _Really. That's the best you can come up with?_

Padma tried to ignore the sick feeling inside of her from lying, realizing that at least one good thing came from her winging it. The words had left her mouth before she could think them through, and therefore she hadn't given any of the usual physical or verbal cues that she was lying. As shaky as her statement was, it was better than something sounding too planned out or rehearsed, and it was at least a little believable.

...She hoped.

"Hmm." Auror Shacklebolt's hum gave nothing away. Neither did his next question. "What is the next thing you remember?"

Padma tried to think of herself as one of those Muggle photographs, that didn't move or speak. She kept as still as possible without appearing unnatural as she spoke. "I remember… waking up when Zacharias Smith tried to pick me up. He thought I was dead. I… I think I asked for Parvati. I didn't know… they told me she was dead."

Funny how even telling the truth can feel wrong after starting it with a lie. Padma started to regret taking this course of action, but knew she couldn't go back. They would doubt everything she told them. She had to see this through to the end, whatever and whenever that may be.

There was silence, except for the almost impossible to hear scritch-scratch of the QuickNotes Quill writing everything down. Odd, Padma had near forgotten its existence despite the drama it had caused at the beginning of this whole ordeal.

Auror Shacklebolt was regarding Padma with a searching, yet unreadable gaze that would have made her uncomfortable even if she wasn't lying. His face was as if a statue, but his eyes were full of movement, flickering between emotions. He seemed to be having an internal over if he should say something or not. Then his eyes settled into stone just like the rest of him. His voice was mild when he spoke, but his eyes were not.

"Did you know, Padma, that your sister's body was found with _your_ wand stabbed inside her? That she had been completely drained of magic?"

The involuntary jerk backward in shock was entirely real. Padma gasped. " _Drained_ of magic? How… how is that possible?" Her thoughts flashed to the memory of those beams of light bursting out of Parvati and reaching into her. She had figured that Parvati was using her own magic to keep her from dying, and at the expense of her own life, but she thought it was more of an instinctual healing spell that used up the last physical energy Parvati had, not _draining her magic!_

"Indeed. It is something none of us have ever encountered before." Shacklebolt replied coolly. "The person who examined both you and Parvati concluded that the only plausible cause of death beyond her injuries was the _magical embalming_ ," Padma flinched at the barbaric-sounding phrase, "and that the only plausible source of this phenomenon was the presence of _your wand_ in her body."

"No." Was the only word Padma could manage.

" _Yes._ " Auror Shacklebolt was not so unreadable now. Padma could read his righteous anger plain on his face and hear it sharp and strong in his voice. "I don't believe that you blacked out, Padma. I believe you fought Bellatrix Lestrange, and I believe you got hurt doing so. I believe that you were both dying and you knew that only one of you could survive. I believe that you stabbed your sister with your wand and somehow drained her magic to keep yourself alive. What I can't understand is _why_?"

" _No!"_ Padma sobbed. "Please, stop."

He didn't stop though, and thundered over her objections relentlessly. "Was it because you were forced? Were you put under the Imperius curse? If so, by whom? None of the Death Eaters, surely, or else we would have seen this killing technique years before now! There's no possibility that a dark wizard was hoarding this spell just to randomly use on a pair of blood traitor teenagers. And especially not in such a way to make it look like one did it to the other! So _why_? Did you _want_ your sister to die? Were you _jealous_ of Parvati? Of her bravery and power? Or were you just too afraid, too _cowardly_ to die and the only way you could live was for _her_ to die in your place!"

Throughout his ruthless storm of words, Padma felt waves of panic and rage building inside of her. She could feel herself drowning again, helpless to stop it or save herself from being dragged into the undertow of her own fury and pain. She could feel the burning in her hands and eyes again, but this time so strongly and so physically that she was legitimately afraid that she would burst into flames. She was standing on that cliff again, but instead of wanting to jump it was going to pull her down instead and she would lose herself forever and where was Parvati why wasn't Parvati saving her Parvati is dead _DID YOU WANT YOUR SISTER TO DIE?_

"NO!" The word burst out of her, echoed by Parvati's own voice in her soul. The waves receded, the cliff lowered and the fire doused. But the anger remained, and this time Padma _used_ it, instead of letting it use her. She glared fearsomely at the man before her accusing her of murdering her own sister and she spoke with strength and power and control. "No. I did _not_ want Parvati to die. I was never jealous of her. I was always _so proud_ of how good and brave she was. I always wanted her to live, more than I wanted to live myself. I loved… I _love_ Parvati, and Parvati wouldn't be Parvati without her magic. I would never have taken that from her. I love my sister more than my own life." She was crying again, but she didn't try to stop it. "I don't… I don't know how this happened, or _why_... All I know is that my sister is _dead_ , and I want her back, and… and… and _I wish I was dead too!_ "

Her legs buckled and she collapsed, wrapping her arms around herself and trying to keep from breaking apart from the earthquake of grief shaking inside of her. No one tried to comfort her, and she was glad for it. She needed to feel something, anything, even if it was as painful as this, and she needed to feel it alone. She was alone now forever. She couldn't rely on anyone anymore.

 _You're not alone._

But in the middle of her desolation, Padma couldn't hear Parvati's voice.

"I think that's _quite_ enough, Kingsley." McGonagall said so severely not even Voldemort himself would have opposed her. "I think we have more than enough information, and it has cost us all dearly to gain it. It's time for your first official act as interim Minister of Magic. It's time for you to decide the fate of Padma Patil."

* * *

 **Author's note: Whew. That was rough.**

 **(Follow, favorite, review! And check out my other stories, Black Girl Magic and Eunoia!)**


	9. Chapter 9

Padma found herself outside the office without remembering walking there. Her muscles were weakened to the point of trembling and the pain relief potions Madam Pomfrey had given her were wearing off. The wound in her side pulsed agonizingly. Padma flinched as she remembered the feeling of Parvati stabbing her there with her wand, touching it absently but only feeling the slight tingle of magic from the healing charm that was protecting that area of her abdomen.

"Padma?"

She looked up and met the worried faces of Neville and Luna, who were sitting rather close together and holding hands. They quickly let go and stood up as she stumbled towards them on shaking legs. "What happened?" Neville demanded, sounding quite angry.

"They sent me out here so they could… _deliberate_." Padma explained quietly, remembering the cold professionalism of Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice as he said that exact word to her. Such an inadequate way to encompass the harsh reality of him holding her future in his hands.

"I don't like this." Neville muttered. "This doesn't seem right."

"Kingsley is a good man." Luna said mildly. "I think he must be having a very hard time right now, having to make all the decisions by himself. He's never been in charge before." She then added thoughtfully, "I wonder if he's even had time to grieve… he has lost many dear friends, just like us."

The faces of Remus and Nymphadora Lupin flickered briefly through Padma's bleak mind.

Neville gave Luna a small, fond smile. "How is it that you can always see the best in people?" He murmured. Luna blushed prettily and Padma glanced away, feeling like she was intruding upon a moment.

"I do not think there is any hope of healing if we can't trust each other." Luna said softly, then addressed Padma directly. "Padma, I know you don't know Kingsley. It's perfectly reasonable that you don't trust him. But you know Professor McGonagall and Flitwick... and me. Trust _me,_ if no one else. Trust that I believe Kingsley will make the right decision."

Padma sighed, long and slow. "This isn't a question of me trusting you, Luna." She said tiredly. "Of _course_ I trust _you_. But it is as you say, I don't trust Mr. Shacklebolt, and I don't know if I even trust McGonagall and Flitwick. Neither the Ministry nor Hogwarts could save us before. Why should I believe that they will now?"

Padma couldn't find it in herself to feel angry or bitter right then. The emotional energy she had to expend during her questioning had drained her so completely, all she wanted to do was sit in silence.

 _Maybe being sent to Azkaban won't be so bad._ She mused morbidly. _I'll get to sit in silence for the rest of my life. I won't have to worry about anything. Not school, or having to live without my family, not my future... And it's not like the Dementors can affect me now. I don't know if I have a soul left for them to take, now that Parvati is dead._

 _...and I'm clearly already insane. I hear voices and talk to myself._

Luna looked troubled and sad. But Neville was nodding seriously. "Like you said, Luna, Kingsley's never been in charge before and now he suddenly has to make all of the decisions. I personally want to know why his first act as interim minister was to take on the case of a sixteen year old girl on the Light side of the battle killing her own twin sister? This was only based on a rumor and the wild accusations of some kid! Why Padma; why this case? The public needs him now more than she does. He could have started rescuing all the war prisoners or locking away the few surviving Death Eaters… or finding places for everyone to live, like the war orphans or families who had their homes destroyed! Why Padma?" He asked again, with more than enough frustration to make up for Padma's resigned apathy and Luna's neutral optimism.

Neville kept going, starting to pace as he voiced his thoughts on Kingsley's political motives aloud. "He's making the same bloody mistake Fudge did after the first war! He's trying to show the strength of the ministry by showing a zero tolerance policy on war criminals, but he's doing it the wrong way! This is just like Sirius Black all over again; he was accused and arrested based on faulty eyewitness accounts and circumstantial evidence, then sentenced without a trial!" He finished furiously, then paused as he became aware of the girls' surprised stares.

He flushed a ruddy hue and grinned shyly. "Er… there wasn't always a lot to do while on the spying missions. I ended up in the library a lot, and I had read all of the herbology books already so I stumbled across wizarding history and law books." He shrugged. "Also, Lee Jordan's radio show did a lot of expository episodes where they told the truth about all the stuff Fudge covered up about Voldemort. Remus Lupin went on the air and they dedicated a whole hour to the Sirius Black case."

Padma found herself almost smiling. "You could have easily been in Ravenclaw." She remarked. He shook his head but acknowledged the statement as the compliment it was. "Although you're clearly a Gryffindor. Just as hot-headed and foolish as the rest of them." She teased, indulging in the familiar house rivalries. It reminded her of simpler times.

Neville snorted. "Foolish is right. Yelling in Voldemort's bloody face then chopping up a ruddy snake."

"It was very brave." Luna praised him sincerely.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah I guess… at least the bravery showed up eventually, right?" He half-joked. "Seven years late." He sighed, shaking his head at himself. "Magic… bravery… guess I'll always be a late bloomer."

"You said you read all the herbology books, Neville." Luna said with a sweet little smile. "Don't you know that all plants must bloom in their own time? The biggest and strongest of trees come from the smallest of seeds, and they take the longest time to grow. You were always meant to be a beautiful and majestic evergreen tree, Neville."

Neville gazed down at the petite blonde beside him in such awe it was as if she was the reincarnation of Merlin himself. Padma thought perhaps this was the weirdest and most adorable thing she had ever witnessed. But she couldn't help but be curious about something…

"Why an evergreen tree?" She asked.

Luna turned and smiled at her in that dreamy, knowing way of hers, outwardly unaffected by Neville's smitten stare. "Evergreen trees need at least seven years to fully mature, and their leaves never fall or fade, no matter the season. They are always green."

Padma's eyebrows lifted. "Oh." She fought back a wide smile at Neville's bright pink blush. She found she rather agreed with Luna's assessment of him. "Luna's right, Neville. You were always brave and magical."

Neville coughed and cleared his throat, glancing away in embarrassment from all the praise. "Well," He finally said, "Gryffindor was always a bit crowded. It's hard to feel brave around such quintessential Gryffindors like Ron and Hermione. Not to mention Harry, the bloody savior of the entire wizarding world." He said without an ounce of resentment, only modesty and grateful admiration of his friends and housemates.

"You saved _us_ , Neville," Luna persisted, unknowingly echoing Padma's words from before.

Neville smiled at her, but his eyes took on the shade of shame. "Harry saved you." His voice was very quiet.

Luna blinked, startled, then her face softened. "Oh, Neville." She sighed. "Will you never see yourself clearly?" Her voice was kind. "Harry has, quite literally, sacrificed everything to save us. But he didn't rescue me from Malfoy Manor, in fact he got himself captured too!" She giggled at Neville's surprise, then said in a sad voice, "A lovely little free house elf named Dobby rescued all of us, including Harry… and died doing so."

Padma had never heard this story before. A house elf? She was well aware of their existence and how wizarding society relied on their service, but had honestly never given them much thought. A _house elf_ had saved Luna _and_ Harry? A _free_ house elf? She had rather a lot of questions to ask, but felt there was something more important she needed to say:

"Neville, Harry may have defeated Voldemort, but _you_ saved us all." She told him. "You kept us all safe this year, by risking your life over and over."

Neville looked right at her, and Padma was stunned by the torment in his eyes. "I didn't save you all, not when it mattered." He finally said in a tortured whisper. "Lavender, Ernie, Marietta, Dennis and Colin… and Parvati." He couldn't keep meeting her eyes. "They all died."

They were all quiet for a good long minute, each fighting their own demons. But Padma knew she had to say something. She willed her lungs to breathe again, and with a great deal of effort but no small amount of truth, she comforted the man who thought himself responsible for her sister's death. "Yes. They died." She said, wondering how it was possible she didn't fall through the floor from the weight of those words. "But without you, none of us would have survived."

"But I still can't help you, even though you're still alive!" Neville said, so caught up in guilt and anger that he didn't care about being tactful. He raked his fingers through his hair savagely. "When we were fighting against Snape and Voldemort, it was simple! I didn't have to worry about listening to authority figures because they were all either evil or useless! But now, there's Kingsley and McGonagall and all the adults just think they can waltz back in and take the reins from us kids, the only ones who were doing anything! If they had done that years ago, then yeah, I would have been happy to let them take care of everything. But they didn't and now they have a group of angry kids who aren't kids anymore. We were forced to grow up because the authorities in our lives wouldn't do their damn jobs, and now that it's safe enough for them to do their jobs - thanks to us, by the way - they want us to be kids again!" He flung his hands into the air, speechless with incredulous frustration.

Then Luna gently touched his arm, and he immediately calmed down. He took several deep, calming breaths before returning to his original point in a much more level tone. "I just don't understand why Kingsley is doing this. Doesn't he know that the entire wizarding world will be watching his every move? So why would he want them to see this? He picked the most complicated, murky, difficult case to be tested with! He's being right stupid, I say, and bloody scary, if he wants to make an example of a teenage girl to show his might. No one's going to tolerate that kind of behavior."

"But don't you see?" Padma's whisper cut through his ranting like a knife. "No one will know." Luna and Neville frowned in confusion, the latter's mouth opening to question her, but Padma wasn't finished. "The entire wizarding world fell apart, including our government. Corrupt and evil it may have been, it was still a functioning and powerful government body, and the only one we had. Now it's gone, along with most of the people who were good enough and experienced enough to take over and fix things. Shacklebolt is one of the only ones left, and he knows everything you're saying is true, Neville. He knows everyone will be watching to see what he will do next… but they're not watching yet. It's only been two days; people are too busy grieving to have started asking him questions."

Neville and Luna's faces changed as they absorbed her words. Padma was a Ravenclaw, and she had always found comfort in logic. She warmed to her topic, despite how grimly it reflected on her current predicament, and continued, "He picked the most difficult and confusing case to handle when the public was distracted. He's testing himself to see how this turns out. Then he'll know how to handle more high profile cases when everything has settled down. My parents are missing, and Parvati is dead, and McGonagall and Flitwick are subject to government oversight, as Hogwarts has no board of governors anymore and Voldemort made Minister directly over the Headmaster. That law is still on the books, and Kingsley knows that and can use it." She sighed without any real feeling. "There's no one to speak for me and fight whatever decides to do with me. I'm alone."

 _You're not alone._

Again, she cut off their protests, this time frustration seeping through. "Yes I _know_ , I'm not physically alone. I know _you_ both care about me, at least. But legally, I have no voice, and they made that _very_ clear in there." She said, her tone dark and full of despair. "If they put in Azkaban, they don't have to worry about me anymore. Otherwise, I'm a jobless homeless minor whose probably an orphan and technically not a Hogwarts student anymore. I have nowhere to go. My only real viable housing option right now _is_ Azkaban!" She said with a sharp, slightly hysterical laugh.

This time it was Luna who responded, with a sly little smirk on her cherubic face. "Oh, but Padma, that's where you're wrong." Padma and Neville just stared at her in confusion, and she smiled beatifically. "Do you remember that Floo Call I made?"

When the aurors and professors finally summoned Padma, she was joined by Luna and none other than Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna's father. Soon after Luna informed them the Floo Call she had made had been to her father, he had come running in a rather awkward way down the hallway in a flurry of flapping oddly-coloured robes and a riot of pale blonde hair, calling his daughter's name.

Luna had skipped to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before leading him by the hand to where Neville and Padma were watching with baffled amusement. "Daddy, this is Neville Longbottom. He's my friend." She beamed at the word, and Neville blushed again. "He's also very smart and brave and believes that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are real." She added casually.

Neville was immediately standing at military attention, face bone-white at the reality of meeting the father of the girl he fancied. "Uh - er - Mister Lovegood, sir - is it Lovegood? I mean, that could be Luna's mother's maiden name… no wait, she still would have your last name… um… I mean - it's very nice to meet you, sir. It's an honor. Yes, honor." He stuttered comically, but managed a good firm handshake with the man who was regarding him as if he were a fascinating new species.

"Do you suppose he's got Nargles, my Luna?" He asked his daughter after releasing Neville's hand. The poor boy's ears turned bright red.

Luna giggled delightedly. "No, Daddy, I think he's just nervous." Neville shot her a desperate glance that clearly said _why are you doing this to me?_

"Nervous?" Xenophilius Lovegood repeated in mild confusion. "My dear boy, you don't need to feel nervous or honored to meet me... especially me." He said, his face suddenly looking very old and weary. Luna frowned up at her father, concerned. "I've done very few honorable things in my life."

Padma suddenly remembered when they all heard the news from Lee Jordan's radio program that Xenophilius Lovegood had been captured by Death Eaters. It hadn't been much of a shock, considering he had been mounting his own resistance against Voldemort's regime by printing truth in _The Quibbler_ to counter to the lies of the corrupted _Prophet_. The issues had suddenly stopped coming after Luna had disappeared, but the news of his capture came months later. His house had been mostly destroyed in an odd explosion, but unreleased editions of _The Quibbler_ that featured Harry's wanted poster had been found in the rubble. Lee Jordan had labeled him a traitor to the cause.

"Daddy, this is Padma." Luna said significantly, pulling everyone back to the matter at hand. Xenophilius turned to face her and gave Padma a long, searching look. It was a good deal deeper and more serious than the one he had given Neville.

"Ah, Padma Patil." He said, taking her hands in his. They were strong and steady and for a brief heart wrenching moment she was reminded of her own missing father. Then almost immediately he released them with a quick glance at Luna who nodded reassuringly. Padma was immeasurably touched, Luna must have informed her father of Padma's aversion to prolonged physical contact at the moment. Not now, when she could still feel Parvati's lifeless hand in hers as if she were holding it in this very moment.

Padma took a good long look at the man before her as well. He was very unusual, but exactly what she would expect from Luna's father now that she thought about it. Luna clearly shared his coloring and personality, but the girl must have gotten her height and features from her mother. He was very tall and though everyone was thin now after the war, he must have already had a lanky build. His clothes must have been a sight to behold at one point, but they looked very old and worn now.

There was days' worth of pale stubble on his face, which featured a strong nose and jaw but was haggard and sported deep lines that seemed to be more from sadness than smiling, and underneath grey eyes that had seen more nightmares than dreams with heavy dark circles that might never fully fade.

As one hand reached up to push back errant hair from falling in his face, his frayed sleeve slipped back and Padma caught a glimpse of ugly scars around his wrists and what might have been letters _carved_ into the muscle of his forearm. Padma felt a sympathetic stab of pain from her own wounds and thought that whatever he had gone through that had made him want to betray Harry, he had more than received his punishment.

He smiled kindly at her. "My Luna tells me you are in need of help."

* * *

"Xenophilius!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed in surprise. "Whatever are you doing here? I didn't realize you -" He cut himself off abruptly.

"That I had escaped?" Mr. Lovegood finished. "Indeed. After the Death Eaters…" His eyes snapped over to Luna and he obviously amended his original words, "After they _retrieved_ all the information from me they believed they could, I was being transported by Snatchers to… a separate location, and they were ambushed by a fortuitous herd of centaurs the Snatchers had previously killed a member of. Centaurs take their justice very seriously." Xenophilius said mildly. "In the ensuing hullabaloo, I was able to steal one of their wands and disapparate. I knew haste was of the utmost priority, else I would have stayed to speak with the centaurs about their lesser-known cousin; the satyr. A fascinating species, half man and half goat, with recorded sightings dating all the way back to ancient times..."

Padma immediately noticed how a tolerating sort of exasperation settled over the aurors and professors. They exchanged knowing glances and Padma knew they had stopped caring about Xenophilius Lovegood. They were _humoring_ him. It was exactly how most people used to treat Luna. She glanced at Luna's father and saw that behind his meandering words, there was a shrewd glint in those cool eyes. She felt a light touch on her wrist. Luna's eyes were glimmering with devious amusement. 'Ravenclaw', she mouthed.

Padma instantly understood and had to hide a smile. Though he was undoubtedly eccentric, Xenophilius was no lunatic and he was most definitely not _stupid_. He knew exactly what people thought of him and how to use it to his advantage. People are always more unguarded around those they don't consider a threat.

"Mr. Lovegood," Auror Shacklebolt said calmly once the man in question had finished his tale. "I am very thankful to see you alive and well, but I'm afraid I must echo Professor Flitwick's earlier question. Why are you here?"

"Oh, yes." Xenophilius said airily. "My Luna gave me a Floo Call with the most interesting news to share… she said that a dear friend of hers was on trial for _murder_ , of all things, without proper legal counsel." The others exchanged slightly awkward and defiant glances. His tone turned caustic. "Now _I_ said that couldn't be possible, because I've known Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, and Kingsley Shacklebolt for nigh on decades now, and they would _never_ allow such a blatant flouting of our laws, especially with one of their _own students_. But she insisted, and my Luna has never been a liar… so here we are." He finished, voice calm but stern like cotton-covered steel.

"Xenophilius…" Flitwick said placatingly. But Xenophilius was having none of it.

"Now, now, Filius," He shook his finger at the smaller man, "Before you say anything, I must remind you that before I started _The Quibbler_ I was a lawyer that had a license to practice in all European Wizarding countries as well as Egypt, America, Antarctica and Transylvania. Also the Seelie Court, but since no one else has a valid license to practice fairy law they don't believe that I do, either. But that's neither here nor there…" He course-corrected after Luna gently tugged his sleeve, "because my license for wizarding Britain is still valid, though I have not used it in years. Oh what do you know!" He exclaimed as he flicked his wand and a piece of parchment appeared in midair. "I've got it right here!"

Padma was not the only one with raised eyebrows in the room. Xenophilius Lovegood was a _lawyer?_ She found that the numbness inside her was beginning to reluctantly shimmer with something like hope. Kingsley Shacklebolt took the parchment Xenophilius held in one outstretched hand and examined it _very_ carefully, as well as casting a few murmured spells checking for legitimacy.

Padma thought perhaps she would be offended if she was a lawyer and was so obviously doubted, but Xenophilius seemed to be taking it in stride (and she privately couldn't fault the auror for his thoroughness).

Shacklebolt handed the license back with a nod and sigh. He now regarded Luna's father with professional respect and wariness. "Alright then, am I to assume Miss Patil is now your client?"

"Client?" Xenophilius chuckled. "Oh dear, I knew I'd forgotten something." He snapped his fingers and _another_ piece of parchment materialized. "Here you go, Kingsley. If you'll look here and here, you'll see that those are the signatures of none other than Hiran and Priyanka Patil, naming me as their daughters' legal guardian in the unfortunate event of their absence. Oh, and you'll want to review the date on this document because it is more up-to-date than the Hogwarts custodial contract."

Padma's jaw had dropped a long time ago and wasn't going to close anytime soon. Her parents had made _Xenophilius Lovegood_ her legal guardian? She didn't even know they _knew_ Luna's father! She looked at her housemate in shock, but Luna only shook her head minutely. Then she would have to get her answers later. After all, this was hardly the time to question the legitimacy of Mr. Lovegood's claim.

Mr. Lovegood snapped his fingers again, and the parchment promptly rolled up and disappeared in Shacklebolt's hands. "Now, as Padma's legal guardian _and_ legal counsel, I must say I greatly object to this abuse of power. You're not making a very impressive Minister of Magic so far, Kingsley." He said with deep disapproval. "But Padma and Luna tell me this sham of a trial is already over and you've reached your verdict. How long was that, twenty… thirty minutes of deliberation? Hmm. That doesn't seem like very much time to consider the consequences of holding the very life of a sixteen year old girl in your hands. For make no mistake, _Minister_ ," He said darkly. "If you send Padma to Azkaban, _you take her life_. For it is no true life she will have in Azkaban, only mere existence, and a horrid one at that." His voice was raw. "There has been more than enough tragedy, Kingsley… don't make Padma collateral damage."

There was a long moment of silence. Hestia Jones looked equal parts mulish and stricken. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked merely tired.

Xenophilius Lovegood waved his hand dismissively. "But let's hear your verdict, Minister. Just know that if I find it in any way unfavorable, I will have you tied up in paperwork and appeals and court dates for as long as you are in office. Perhaps that won't be very long, however. Ministers don't seem to have an extensive shelf life." He finished cruelly.

Padma blinked at her lawyer and guardian, completely dumbfounded. It really was too bad that he hadn't stayed a lawyer. The man was a veritable gladiator.

Shacklebolt sighed, and it seemed like there was an entire war fought in that one breath. Then the man stood and straightened to his full, imposing height and stared down directly into Padma's eyes. "I have made my decision." He declared.

For one terrible second, there was utter silence. Padma could not even hear her own heartbeat.

"Padma Patil. This court has found insufficient evidence to prove either your guilt or innocence." She froze, suspended between dizzying relief and fear. After letting that statement absorb, Kingsley continued, "We do however, consider you as a possible threat to yourself and others. So, until either your parents' return or your seventeenth birthday, whichever comes first, you are to remain in the custody of your legal guardian Xenophilius Lovegood. If he is ever unable to continue to care for your well-being, there will be another evaluation to determine the next course of action."

Padma's eyes flew to Luna's in desperate, fearful hope. She was going to live with Luna! That was better than anything she had anticipated.

"Furthermore," Shacklebolt's voice boomed, "You will be issued a ministry-monitored wand, but you will be under restricted magical use since we cannot prove that you did not cause the death of your sister, accidentally or otherwise, with your wand or magic. Your original wand will be placed in the care of your legal guardian. You will also be required to attend weekly counseling sessions with a ministry-appointed healer until they determine you are no longer a danger to yourself or others. Then and only then will your magical restrictions be lifted and your wand returned. Finally, you will be required to do weekly ministry-approved community service." Shacklebolt stared hard at Padma and spoke even more firmly.

"You will not be allowed to return to Hogwarts."

Padma's throat was suddenly dry and for a brief moment she was mutinous. Not return to Hogwarts? Hogwarts was as much her home as their Indian estate had been, or her parent's manor in wizarding Britain. She couldn't imagine not coming back… but neither could she fathom returning. It had been her home for six years, but this last year it had been her prison. It was also the place where Parvati had died.

"You will receive your sentence and all the corresponding rules and details in writing at the earliest convenience." Shacklebolt informed her. "Do you understand what is required of you?"

She nodded. "I understand." She whispered.

* * *

 **Author's Note: The sentencing was the most difficult to figure out, but believe me when I say it was thoroughly thought out on my behalf, and every part of her sentence is crucial to the plot. I know this is frustrating because I believe "innocent until proven guilty", but this is meant to be frustrating. Padma is at the mercy of the ministry for now, for better or for worse. Don't worry... it won't remain that way for long. *wink***

 **Also, I hope you don't find my portrayals of the characters too OOC (Neville and Xenophilius in particular), but I believe every character deserves to be a little more badass after the war, and Luna's crazy dad being a total shark in the courtroom was too good of an idea to ignore. I didn't really want to make Kingsley a bad guy in this story, just show that he's in between a proverbial rock and a hard place. The reality is that governments make policy decisions that affect every area of our lives in ways they don't usually see, and here Kingsley had to directly face Padma, one of those people he affects that he might never have met otherwise. Hopefully he'll be a better minister because of it.**

 **All in all, I am satisfied with the outcome of the trial. It was definitely a long and hard road to get here, and we've got longer and harder roads ahead! So stick around, and tell me what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

Padma was silent as she walked the halls of Hogwarts for what might be the last time. She allowed her eyes to travel all over the stone and wood and metal, over the paintings and statues and tapestries, looking but not really seeing. She waited for the memories to flood her; she and Parvati had skipped and walked and ran and fought through these very halls for seven years.

This had been her home.

Hogwarts had always seemed so alive, with as much thought and heart and personality as any one of its students, but now it was cold and silent. No ghosts drifted through the walls. Even most of the portraits were empty of their usual subjects.  
"A lot of people have gone home; if they still have one." Neville said, answering her unspoken question. "Everyone else... Everyone that's not still in the hospital... I don't know. They're here and there. Some in the dorms, some in the Great Hall, some are even still in the Room." He shrugged. "It's only been a few days, after making Hogwarts livable again, everyone kind of found a place to settle and stayed there. We probably won't run into anyone."

Padma nodded mutely, aware of Luna's carefully concerned gaze. She hadn't spoken since her 'sentencing', after which Xenophilius had pointedly asked Luna to take Padma to go get her belongings. Padma hadn't much enjoyed being shooed out of the room like a child so the adults could talk, but had desperately wanted to get out of there. Auror Jones had put up a bit of a fight, insisting an auror accompany them, but Xenophilius had quickly struck down that idea by saying that Padma had not been convicted of murder and therefore shouldn't be treated like a violent criminal needing a police escort everywhere, and that Luna and Neville had more than proven themselves in battle and were perfectly capable of handling whatever situation arose, and weren't the auror stretched rather thin anyway? Didn't they have better things to do than follow a wounded, wandless sixteen year old witch around?

Padma had let the argument flow around her, uncaring. She felt like she was floating, a leaf being carried in the rapids of a river, battled on all sides by the current, unable to sink or float away. Rivers did not feel the weight of leaves, but decided their fate anyways. Why should she care what happened to her anymore, torn from her tree, from her roots? She had no purpose in this place anymore.

She had hoped that this trial would bring this drowning, rushing madness to a close but it had only muddied the waters. She still didn't know where she was going or what would happen to her. It had been a futile hope, anyway. She could not erase what had happened; she could not return to her place on the tree.

The only thing that kept her grounded was her sore muscles and aching bones, and the sharp pain in her side. It was a good pain. It reminded her she was human. Otherwise she felt as if she would float away from her body, a ghost to forever wander a place she was no longer welcome in… the place she had died.  
This had been her home.

They soon reached the seventh floor corridor and the empty space of wall where the door to the Room would appear.

"Since we don't know who's in there, do you want me to go in first?" Neville offered a bit awkwardly. Padma shrugged, with concerted effort to make the motion as smooth as possible. She felt like a puppet that had just been handed its own strings and had to figure out how to move its body on its own.

As Neville walked back and forth three times, Luna watching him with mild interest, Padma gazed across the hall at the eternally obnoxious tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet. She wondered how something so useless could live across from something so utterly necessary. Then she wondered if it was truly useless after all, or if it held some secret magical power vital to the functionality of the school.

She moved closer to it, examining the threads, searching for something… anything.

With a frown and a small sound of disgust, she soon leaned back. Nothing. Just bloody trolls learning bloody ballet. The tapestry was just a stupid souvenir of a bygone era. She had the faintest itch in her fingers to rip it down, suddenly frustrated with how many silly trinkets filled this school while the real items of power - Rowena's diadem, Gryffindor's sword, the Room of Requirement - were hidden away while people _died_ to protect this school, this blasted _tapestry,_ until Hogwarts decided to reach down from on high and grant them such blessings magnanimously, like a king that carelessly tossed gold coins to his subjects from his throne only after thousands had succumbed to the starvation and disease of living in poverty.

She suddenly _hated_ Hogwarts, in such a deep and visceral way it brought her slamming back into her body clearer than pain. She turned away from the tapestry, feeling her lips curl back into a snarl.

"Rivers and leaves." She muttered the words like a curse, glaring at the wall.

As if it heard her words, the doors appeared and slid open smooth as liquid. Padma liked to think there was a hint of shame and remorse in the way they opened. But she would get no apology from Hogwarts.

This had been her home.

Neville hurried inside with a quick smile to the girls, who waited in silence for him to return. Luna glanced at Padma several times with her enormous silvery eyes as if she wanted to say something, but she never did. It was all the same to Padma. Her own words had proven meaningless, screams turned to whispers in the echoes of people more powerful than her.

And so she was silent.

The door creaked as it opened, and Padma wanted to roll her eyes. A magic door that needed oiling? How needy. Neville's genial face appeared. "Come on in," He said. "There's hardly anyone here. We can go straight to your dumble and get your things and be out in a tic."

 _What things?_ Padma thought sourly. _I have no wand. I don't need my school books and robes anymore._ But she was here, and so she followed.

Neville was right, they walked to Padma and Parvati's dumble unmolested. Many of the curtained-off sections had disappeared as if they had never been there. She knew why. She recognized the empty spot where the Creevey brothers' dumble had been and felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. She almost thought hers would be gone too, like Parvati, but it was still there when they arrived. It seemed wrong for it to still exist while her sister did not, but for one wild moment Padma wanted to stay and never leave because she knew that once she had gotten her things and left, their dumble would disappear. Another connection to her sister ripped away from her before she was ready.

This had been her _home._

"We'll wait out here." Neville said after a minute of them all just standing in front of the dumble doing nothing. Padma shot Luna a quick look that the other girl immediately understood.

"We need to use our wands to help her carry the trunks." Luna said to him gently.

Neville blushed a mottled red hue. "Oh. Right. Sorry, Padma."

Padma nodded at him, flexing her fingers. It had only been a few days, but it already felt like she had forgotten how to use a wand. She assumed it was due to the magical nature of her injury. The average witch or wizard was hardly attuned to the feel of their magic; they all knew it was there but it felt as normal as breathing. Magic was just as unnoticed and just as necessary. When a witch or wizard held a wand, it should be like speaking or laughing. Just as natural but with a bit more concentration and conscious effort.

But ever since waking up in that hospital bed, Padma had a strange, heightened sense of her magic but it gave her little comfort. It was still there, but it was an alien and volatile creature. One second it felt like the barest murmur in her blood, the next a flood of fire so hot she thought she could breathe flames into the very air. She felt like a broken jar trying to contain all the water in the ocean.

However she felt about Shacklebolt's verdict, she privately agreed that she should not have her wand back just yet. She was afraid of her magic at the moment... and the last thing it had been used for was dealing her sister a killing blow.

The thought of using that wand again made her feel sick.

With Luna and Neville beside her, she reached out and ripped open the curtain, like tearing off a bandage.

It was hard to say who was more surprised to find that the dumble was _not_ in fact empty; Padma, Luna and Neville, or the very familiar figure sitting on one of the makeshift beds who jumped up with wand out at the sudden intrusion.

"Seamus?" Padma gasped, an odd mix of relief and dread bubbling up inside of her as she recognized the boy Parvati had fancied. "What are you doing here?"

Seamus Finnigan's shocking blue eyes were unreadable as they flickered over the three of them. His boyish, mulish face was hard and his wand remained trained on them long after he should have identified them as friend, not foe.

"Seamus!" Neville laughed, grinning and shaking his head at his best friend, lowering his own drawn wand. "Merlin's beard, mate, wear a bloody bell! Nearly scared the pants off us." He gave Padma a meaningful look, and she remembered what Neville had said to her about talking to Seamus about Parvati.

She wasn't so sure she wanted to do that.

"Hello, Seamus," Luna waved. "I'm happy to see you, even though you don't look very happy to see us."

Padma looked sharply at the blonde. She had long since learned that Luna's observations should never be taken lightly, and now she regarded Seamus with a new wariness. Padma narrowed her eyes at Seamus, seeing his tense stance, like a bowstring drawn taught to fire an arrow. As his eyes landed on her, she felt a fresh flood of dread well up inside her, diluting the relief. Seamus had always been quick-tempered, but now the maelstrom in his eyes was nothing short of explosive. She was seeing in Seamus what she felt inside herself, and she was afraid.

"Oi, what's wrong, Finnigan?" Neville asked lightly, but he also seemed to treating his friend with caution.

Seamus face was red and ugly as he stared at Padma. "What am _I_ doing here? How _dare_ you." He hissed through clenched teeth, and his rage in his voice was so forceful that Padma had to stop herself from taking a step back. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Neville was aghast. "Seamus!"

Luna's voice was as calm as ever, but her face was serious as she looked at Seamus. "This is Padma and Parvati's dumble, Seamus, she has every right to be here."

" _Right?_ " Seamus' face darkened to a bloody purplish color, like an angry bruise. "She has _no_ right!" He thundered. "She _killed_ Parvati!"

Padma reeled like she had been slapped in the face. Seamus' words ripped through her silent exhaustion and the torrential rage inside of her clawed its way through the tear with snarls and shrieking laughter. _This half-blood thinks you a killer? Fine! Show him how dangerous you can be!_

She felt electricity dancing through her fingers and clenched her fists. She screwed her eyes shut against the sudden burning that came not from tears but pure fire. She could hear Neville's sharp shout of " _Seamus!"_ but it was muffled by the rushing in her ears.

 _She killed Parvati!_

 _She killed Parvati!_

"Padma!"

Luna's voice, clear and cold as winter wind, cut through the clamor inside of her and cooled the flames. Padma blinked her eyes open and the world came back into focus, shocking in its dull quiet reality. She had curled up on the floor with her face hidden against her knees, one arm shielding her head and one wrapped around her ribs like a vice. She had been literally trying to physically hold herself together. Luna was kneeling beside her, her small face tight with concern. A white-faced Neville was standing between them and Seamus, who was staring at her, the edges of his anger blurred with confusion and doubt. They were all shaken by Padma's reaction, but none so much as herself.

Padma slowly unfurled her trembling limbs and got unsteadily to her feet, trying not to remember how she had recovered from Bellatrix's torture curse in a similar fashion during the battle. She tasted warm, stinging iron and realized she had bitten her tongue. She felt her face burn with the familiar muted feeling of shame. She had actually _cowered_ before him, like some bloody frightened animal!

She consciously allowed just a thread of anger to weave through her. It steadied her limbs and strengthened her spine. Avoiding Luna's moon-like eyes, she forced herself to stand straight and tall and meet Seamus' damning gaze.

" _I did not kill Parvati._ " The words waded through the blood in her mouth and slipped in a whisper that was nevertheless louder than any of Seamus' bellows.

He looked stricken, but still he glared. "Your wand was stabbed inside of her." He spat.

"Where did you hear that?" Neville demanded. Then he muttered a curse. "I _swear_ , I am going to _throttle_ Zacharias Smith, that stupid rat-faced git."

Seamus ignored his former commander, continuing to scowl darkly at Padma, who said nothing more. Then his body erupted into motion, roughly shoving Neville out of the way as he stormed out of the dumble, stopping in front of Padma and thrusting his fist out. Her hands came up in a reflex even as she forced herself not to flinch, but his hand stopped just a hair shy of Padma's chest and turned over, opening to show her something she hadn't known he was holding. She stared uncomprehending at the round, dull metal pendant in his hand, connected to a chain she remembered seeing hang around Seamus' neck.

He sharply flicked his hand, and the pendant popped open. A small grainy photograph was stuffed inside, and Padma gazed spellbound at the tiny image of Parvati laughing and flipping her long hair, then winking at the camera and blowing a kiss. Her heartbeat shrank and tightened into the fast thrumming of a fairy's wings, and her breath came short and fast.

She reached out a shaking hand but Seamus slammed the locket shut. Padma's gaze shot up and she stared at him furiously, but the torture in his blue eyes stopped her short.

"You may not have murdered Parvati," Seamus croaked, Irish accent thicker than Padma had ever heard it. "But you sure as hell killed her. She's _dead_ because of _you_." His jaw trembled slightly, and tears pierced his eyes like blades. "I _loved_ her, and she's _dead_."

He threw down the locket violently where it clanged sharply against the floor in front of Padma's feet. She swiftly picked it up even before the echoes of its impact had faded as Seamus began to stomp off again, shoulders shaking. She was going to let him leave, but then she turned the locket over in her hand and saw that the face of it had cracked where it struck the ground. The sight of it filled her with grief and fury.

"Padma?" The sound of Luna's feminine voice, so like Parvati's but so _not_ , triggered something inside of her. She spun around and wildly flung the locket where it hit Seamus square in the back. It couldn't have hurt him much, but his face looked irate as he whirled back to face her.

"How dare _I?_ How dare _you?"_ She shouted at him. "How _dare_ you say that you loved her to my face, as if you loved her more than I do? _You_ loved her? _I LOVED HER_!" The scream was torn straight from her very soul. Seamus stumbled backward as if she were striking him with her fists. "She was my _twin sister!_ We shared a _womb_ , we shared our _lives_ , we shared _everything_! _We shared a heart!_ " Her body shook from the force of her words, but this was no foreign madness inside of her. The screams were borne solely of her own true anguish. " _You_ loved her and she's dead? _I LOVED HER AND SHE'S DEAD AND IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!"_

The last of her energy left her suddenly and she swayed, feeling blown over in the wake of her own hurricane. "It should have been me," She repeated in a broken breath, a mere wisp of smoke where fire once blazed.

Seamus stood in stunned silence for a long moment. Then he very slowly leaned over and picked up the locket. He stared at its damaged surface with a positively haunted look on his face. Then he reached out and offered it to her again, with shaking fingers instead of a clenched fist.

Padma could hardly bare to look at it, or him. She had no more energy to face her sorrow, but that thread of anger was still inside of her, and she could feel that crack in the metal pulsing like the wound in her side. "I don't want that." She said harshly. "You could not work up the courage to tell her you loved her while she was still alive, _Gryffindor_ , then you treat a supposed symbol of your love for her so carelessly? That's not love at all, that's shame." She said, touching the bandage on her abdomen. "Keep your shame, Seamus, I don't want it. I have enough of my own."

Seamus went white with shock, then bright red with anger. But his eyes were wretched, and his mouth stayed closed and silent. He clutched the locket tight to his chest, against his heart, before slowly turning away from Padma and walking off. His steps soon quickened into a run, soundless as they hit the ground. Padma watched him leave until the door of the Room of Requirement melted back into wall behind him and it was like he had never been there.

 _Lions may roar, but eagles soar._

She waited until she could breathe normally again, then finally forced herself to walk into the little makeshift room she had shared with Parvati, avoiding looking or talking to Luna and Neville after her confrontation with Seamus. Neville chose to stay outside the dumble as Luna helped Padma gather her sparse belongings.

Then as she began the tedious and tortuous process of packing Parvati's things, Padma stoically ignored the fact that Parvati's bed was stained with Seamus' tears _._

They soon faded into nothing.

* * *

Padma stood with Luna's light fingers touching her wrist, Neville's steady presence on her other side, her and Parvati's trunks levitated by Luna's wand. They stood in between the dumble and the door, on the precipice of change. Padma had never spoken to the Room before in all the months she had lived here, and she wasn't sure she deserved to or if she even wanted to now. But in this moment, she felt none of her earlier hatred, only sadness. And so, she tentatively gathered her broken pieces of magic and presented them to Hogwarts.

 _This is who I was. This is what's been done to me within your walls. You saved me. You destroyed me. You made me._

 _...This is who I am._

She closed her eyes. "Goodbye."

She waited, but felt nothing. No tingle of her magic, no soft breeze or glimmer of light. Nothing. But when she opened her eyes again, the dumble was gone, except for one small piece of fabric that floated down to her. She gazed down at the names embroidered elegantly into the cloth.

 _Parvati Patil_

 _Padma Patil_

She hesitated, then finally held out her hands, accepting this last gift from Hogwarts. The cloth folded itself neatly and settled into her waiting hands. When they turned around, the door had opened for them.

Padma left the Room for the last time and didn't look back. She didn't need to watch the door vanish behind her. She knew it was gone.

This had been her home.

* * *

 **Author's note: Follow, favorite, review!**


	11. Chapter 11

Padma, Luna, and Neville returned to the headmistress' office to find everyone gone except for Headmistress McGonagall and Luna's father. They looked to be having quite the serious conversation that they abruptly cut off when the young people entered. McGonagall glanced at Padma for once not with wariness but sympathy instead. Padma was instantly suspicious. _What's going on?_

"Miss Patil," McGonagall said gravely, the usual brisk edge of her voice dulled with pity. "Before you leave, there is one more affair of yours we must get in order."

Padma's eyes closed briefly. _What now?_ Her encounter with Seamus had left her exhausted to the point where her bones felt like they trembled with every step. Simply standing up straight was taking every bit of her focus and energy; if one more damn thing happened to her in the walls of this godforsaken school she thought she might just shatter into dust right here.

"There is the matter of your sister's body," McGonagall said bluntly. "Your parents are missing, and the status of your family's estates both in Britain and India are currently unknown. Voldemort's followers pillaged and destroyed the homes of many people. It is more than likely that upon your family being classified as illegal aliens and blood traitors, your earthly possessions and inheritance have been repossessed and hidden in any number of places, and your homes demolished. That means we have no access to your family's burial plots and records."

She gestured towards Luna's father, "Mr. Lovegood is your guardian and has the legal right to handle the process of your sister's burial by himself, but he decided to abide by your personal wishes in the absence of your parents." She said. She waited for the meaning of her words to sink in before saying in an only slightly more gentle tone, "I understand that this is rather a lot of responsibility and they are hardly easy decisions to make. There need be no haste in your deliberations. Madam Pomfrey has informed me that your sister's body can be preserved magically and kept in St. Mungo's morgue for as long as you need."

Padma remained quiet as her former professor spoke, but inside she was reeling. She had not given one single thought to the status of Parvati's body after she died. It was equal parts comforting and abhorrent to know that somewhere in this very castle Parvati's lifeless corpse lay waiting to be disposed of.

The headmistress had paused just long enough for Padma to notice her hesitation. "...There will also be a memorial here on the school grounds for those who died in the battle. While we have not expressly decided to include a cemetery, I am willing to offer the Hogwarts grounds as Parvati's final resting place. She was a student here for seven years and died defending it. She has as much place here as Albus Dumbledore himself." Padma was touched by the offer despite her own current aversion to the school.

McGonagall added, "There will also be a memorial service… a funeral, so to speak, in one week's time here at Hogwarts. We would gladly include a burial for Parvati in the service if that is your wish."

There was a roaring in her ears. Padma was suddenly a very small child again, and while playing a game, Parvati had accidentally gotten herself locked in a closet. _I'm scared, Addie! It's cold and dark and the air feels funny… I can't breathe… get me out! Addie!_

"No _._ " The word left her quietly, but with the force of a shout. Padma's eyes snapped open without her remembering that she closed them. She focused on McGonagall's raised eyebrows and pursed lips as she tried not to think of Parvati being shut inside of a coffin and buried deep underground.

 _Get me out!_

"She can't - she can't be buried -" Padma shuddered, the strength of her first _no_ dissolving into panicked gasps. "She's claustrophobic, she can't be buried, she'll be afraid, she'll be _trapped_ -"

 _Addie!_

" _Parvati_ -"

A large, warm hand lay steady on her shoulder; an anchor in her sudden flood of hysteria. "Breathe, Padma." Xenophilius Lovegood calmly and firmly reminded her. "Take a deep breath for me, my dear. In… and out..." Padma's body obeyed, some small part of her mind recognizing the command for the help that it was, and as her lungs remembered how to do their job, her limbs gradually relaxed and her mind quieted. Parvati's crying voice faded into nothing.

Padma breathed.

"Good." Mr. Lovegood said gently, removing his hand before it could become burdensome. A little embarrassed but grateful, Padma drew her personal space back around her like armor. She hated feeling vulnerable. People could hurt you when you were down. Or they could hurt the people you love.

Padam blinked away the memory of violent purple light as Mr. Lovegood addressed the headmistress, "Minerva, we are grateful for your offer, but as you can see we shall have to respectfully decline." His voice took on that absently fascinated tone of a scholar lecturing on an academic subject. "Padma's parents, Hiran and Priyanka, were observant of the Hindu religion. Now, if I recall accurately, it is customary of the Hindu people to cremate their dead, as they believe it releases the soul from the mortal body. Do correct me if I'm wrong, Padma."

Padma remembered attending a funeral in India when she was a little girl, for her father's old friend. It had taken place at the burning ghats of the shores of the sacred river Ganga. She remembered the subtle glow of the lamp placed near the head of the coffin as her father led everyone in the traditional hymns and prayers, as the man had no sons. She remembered the floral fragrance hanging in the evening air that came from the flower garlands people draped over the man's body, and the flat clatter of wooden beads on the _mala_ necklaces that were also used to pay respects.

She remembered the dry, slightly squishy texture of the _pinda_ her mother pressed into her palm. They were also to be placed in the coffin, but Padma had refused to go up and see the body and had to hold the _pinda_ for the duration of the funeral, the rice ball slowly crumbling apart in her small fist. Parvati had tried to eat hers, which mortified their mother to no end.

Their father had sprinkled water over the man's body, then the coffin was lifted and placed on a large pile of wood. Padma remembers the overpowering smell of incense from the flames as the woodpile was lit, stinging her nose and bringing tears to her eyes.

The last rite of the funeral was sprinkling the ashes in the river. Little Padma had felt bad about not putting her _pinda_ in the coffin, and the ashes looked so pretty floating on the water that reflected the beautiful night sky, mingling with the stars. She and Parvati lightly tossed their _pindas_ into the river, but they did not float. They hit the water with a _shloop_ and quickly sank, leaving behind a few soggy grains of rice and ripples that disrupted the peaceful journey of the ashes.

The memory was an old one, more sensory than anything else, but it gave Padma something concrete of her family and culture to hold onto. She suddenly and desperately wanted that for Parvati; for her to float away with the stars, free of this world and all its pain and sadness... and magic.

"I want her to be cremated, please." Padma said, surprising herself with the conviction in her voice. "But no magic." She said harshly. "The fire must be made the muggle way, with wood and matches."

Magic had taken Parvati's life. Padma would let it touch no part of her in death.

McGonagall nodded once with no outward reaction to Padma's no-magic stipulation. "Do you wish to be present for the cremation?"

Padma's mind filled with the hungry orange blaze of flames, consuming Parvati's sweet face, charring it beyond oblivion. Her whole body recoiled. "No, thank you." She whispered.

The headmistress nodded again. "It shall be done according to your wishes. The ashes will be sent to you immediately after the procedure."

"Her." Padma murmured. " _Her_ ashes."

The lines of McGonagall's face deepened slightly with remorse. She nodded again, more slowly than before. "Of course. My apologies."

There was a moment of poignant, respectful silence. Then by some unspoken cue, Luna's father stepped forward. "I thank you, Minerva, for all that you've done for Padma and my Luna." Xenophilius said, clasping the headmistress' hand. "Now... if I may be so bold, Minerva…" The woman regarded him suspiciously but nodded for him to continue.

"I am no seer," Xenophilius confessed, "and Albus Dumbledore indeed left some rather long robes to trip over, but I foresee that you will have a remarkable legacy of your own, and I do not think it takes a seer to know that Hogwarts is in the best of hands." He said sincerely.

The older woman did not look flattered, in fact she had never look so old and tired. "Thank you, Xenophilius." She sighed. "But Hogwarts has been in better hands than mine. Anything that I accomplish will be thanks to Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and students like your Luna."

Xenophilius smiled slightly in acknowledgement of the truth in her words, with a fond glance to his daughter. "I assume we shall be in contact soon." He said. "Goodbye, Minerva."

"Mr. Lovegood." McGonagall nodded curtly.

The man inclined his head in return, then flicked his wand and levitated Luna and Padma's luggage over to the headmistress' office Floo.

"Buh-bye, Headmistress." Luna said pleasantly. "I'll see you soon!"

McGonagall cocked her head a bit. "Soon?"

Luna blinked innocently. "Why, for school of course. I haven't graduated yet, and I know that you'll have the school as good as new by the end of the summer. Daddy's right, you know, Hogwarts is in good hands. I'm looking forward to next year."

In the face of Luna's earnestness and bright smile, McGonagall could not help but be cheered. "Run along now, Miss Lovegood." She said with all of her customary brisk sternness. "Your father is waiting."

Luna beamed at this show of backbone from the new headmistress and sprang forward to give the woman a brief, tight hug, which McGonagall returned after a moment of visible surprise. The blonde girl soon skipped away as the headmistress shook her head fondly, tactfully dragging Neville with her to have their own private farewell.

McGonagall turned her sharp gaze onto Padma, who was surprised to note she felt none of the old fearful respect that had colored her interactions with her former professor for seven years. She respected McGonagall immensely, but she was no longer a Hogwarts student.

McGonagall regarded Padma thoughtfully and seemed to sense the change in the young woman. Her face changed, tinged with regret and perhaps a bit of approval. "Miss Patil." She said. Seven years were encompassed in those two words.

"I hate Hogwarts." Padma blurted out.

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in shock.

Padma inwardly cringed, but kept her chin up. "I do. But I only hate it... because I loved it so much." She confessed, her voice breaking. "Parvati died here. But she also _lived_ here, for seven years. I lived here for seven years." She sighed, just a little thing, a shift in the air. "This place was my home." McGonagall's face softened imperceptibly. "One of the happiest days of my life was my first day here... The saddest day of my life was when Parvati died. What else could this place be _but_ a home, if it can inspire so much love and hate?"

Padma met McGonagall's gaze steady on. "This place was my home, and you're kicking me out of it."

McGonagall actually _flinched._

"I can't say that I will ever forget it." Padma said truthfully, bitterly. "But I think that someday, I will be able to forgive you for it." Padma hesitated, searching for the words she wanted to say next. They came more easily than she expected.

"Hogwarts doesn't need me anymore, Professor." She said quietly. "It needs you. Just… promise me one thing."

McGonagall seemed to be holding her breath. Padma took a deep breath of her own.

" _Promise me that no one else will die here._ "

McGonagall's eyes widened, then they closed briefly in grief.

"This was supposed to be a school, not a cemetery." Padma said, her face twisting severely to keep back the tears. She didn't care that what she was asking might be unfair. She _needed_ this. "Students should never have to be soldiers. Don't let Parvati's sacrifice be in vain."

"Miss Patil…" McGonagall whispered. In the moment of her anguish, Padma didn't recognize that she had never heard the woman whisper before. That deep and frightening anger was roiling up inside of her, overwhelming the grief and darkening her promise with a sinister vow that Padma nonetheless felt to be true all the way to her very bones.

"Too many people have died for this _damn_ school." Padma said harshly. "For a bloody pile of _rocks_."

McGonagall blinked.

 _Did you just swear in front of a teacher, Addie?_

 _Yes, I bloody did!_

"So let me promise _you_ something instead, _Headmistress_." She said savagely. "If _one_ more child dies in defense of this school while you are still in this office, I _promise_ that Albus Dumbledore won't be the only headmaster killed here."

Stunned silence.

The anger left her so quickly it was like it had never been there.

 _Did you just threaten to kill the headmistress of Hogwarts? After you were just tried for murder?_

 _...Yes. I bloody did._

Padma slowly met McGonagall's eyes, horrified at herself and the fact that she didn't actually regret anything she just said. The headmistress, miraculously, did _not_ look like she was going to run and get Kingsley Shacklebolt to throw her in Azkaban.

She looked... thoughtful.

McGonagall raised her chin slightly to peer at Padma through her spectacles. "Albus Dumbledore is my shadow, Miss Patil. I think we both know who yours is." Padma swallowed hard. McGonagall continued, "Your sister was the quintessential Gryffindor. Parvati was loyal, brave, and bold."

Padma felt very small.

"However…" McGonagall's voice intoned. "Bravery is not limited to Gryffindor House, and it can manifests itself it many different ways in many different people. It is one kind of bravery to die in battle," Padma inhaled sharply, "and it is another kind of bravery to survive."

Padma looked up in surprise. Her former professor's face softened. Something Padma couldn't quite recognize blazed in the woman's eyes. It was bright and strong, like how Padma's mother had looked when the twins had gotten their Hogwarts letters.

"However your sister died, Miss Patil," McGonagall said, "You have _survived_." She said fiercely. "Despite what you may think, it is not a singular event. Surviving is a decision you must make every single day from now on. It is your _duty_ to live your life bravely, boldly, and loyally." Her voice rang with conviction. "I may have lost a Gryffindor student in your sister, Miss Patil… but I think I have also gained one in you." Something glimmered in her eyes. "After all, it is not every day that someone threatens me and makes me feel _proud_ of them."

Padma was speechless.

McGonagall, however, had more to say. "Do not forget your Ravenclaw roots, Miss Patil. You were always an exemplary student. You were diligent, punctual, resourceful, and resilient. Being brave and bold is useless if you cannot also be smart. You will need both your brains and your instincts to survive from now on, Miss Patil."

The headmistress grew very serious. "As Mr. Lovegood said before, I am no seer, Miss Patil. But I do not think we will often cross paths from now on. For better or for worse, your time at Hogwarts is over. I know you do not have a lot of love for this school," She said, not unkindly. "But I know this school loves you… and Parvati. You will _always_ be a Hogwarts student." She said firmly.

"Professor…" Padma could hardly find the words. "...Thank you."

The intense atmosphere that had surrounded them lifted, and of course Luna appeared beside them with her usual perfect timing.

"Come on, Padma." Luna said casually as their was nothing at all out of the ordinary in this entire situation, "Time to go."

Padma allowed herself to be led away when something occurred to her suddenly. She spun around and said desperately, "Professor!"

The woman's eyebrows raised. "Miss Patil?"

Padma has to fight a sudden lump of emotion in her throat. "Professor Flitwick… will you tell him…" The lump became too large, and the words stuck in her throat.

McGonagall's face was kind and understanding. "I'll tell him."

The tension left Padma's shoulders at the assurance. Minerva McGonagall knew her students better than anyone in the world. It was then that Padma realized exactly what McGonagall was. She was not just a professor.

Seized by some strange, strong urge, Padma slowly moved away from Luna and walked straight up to the headmistress and placed her hand over the woman's heart. She spoke two Hindi words. " _Maan sher."_

 _Mother lion._

Padma didn't think the woman knew any Hindi, but as usual, McGonagall surprised her. The older woman's eyes shimmered with what looked suspiciously like tears, and she reached up and covered Padma's hand with her own and said, " _Sher ka bachcha."_

Padma reeled back in shock.

 _Lion cub._

Then she smiled.

"Goodbye, Professor… Headmistress."

McGonagall - professor, headmistress, lioness, and mother - smiled back. "Goodbye Miss Patil… Padma."

Padma turned around and walked over to the Floo. She did not look back.

She stopped in front of Neville, who was waiting with Luna in front of the fireplace. His earnest face was anxious, full of concern for her.

"Padma," He voice cracked, and Padma smiled. "Padma," he repeated more strongly. "If you ever need anything - _anything_ \- send me an Owl or call me on the Floo." He swallowed and glanced away quickly in hesitation before resolutely looking her straight in the eye. "I know… I know how easy it is, after a... tragedy… well, it's easy to hide," He stuttered slightly, "and tell yourself that you're not... alone, that you're just independent. That you don't need anyone. But you do. You need us." He hurried to add, "I mean, you should take all the time and space you need to heal, but don't… don't hide from your friends. Don't hide from the world." He hesitated again before bravely finishing, "Parvati wouldn't want you to."

He cringed slightly as if expecting Padma to lash out for his presumption, but instead Padma felt warmed by how he had put his heart on his sleeve; how loyal and brave he was being, just to show her that he cared. She realized that she would _miss_ Neville, with a strong surge of emotion.

"Thank you, Neville." She whispered, gently touching his arm. "You're a good friend."

His face lit up with hope and relief, and he leaned into her touch, embracing her with his presence rather than his arms.

Padma allowed herself to bask for one brief moment in this feeling of companionship, before it became too much for her and she stepped back, pulling her _aloneness_ around her again like a protective cloak. She appreciated Neville's advice, and she didn't _want_ to hide from the world, but Neville had a different perspective than her. He still had a home and a family and a school. And now he had the respect of his peers and the entire magical community, as a wizard and a commander and a fighter.

Despite how many of his friends had died, arguably Neville had come out of the war with more than he had before.

Padma had nothing, and she had no one. No home, no family, no school, and no magic.

 _You will always be a Hogwarts student._

Padma fought down the fear that seized her as she approached the cold stone of the Floo, sticking close to Luna's small form as the two girls stepped inside the fireplace.

Luna lightly wound her fingers around Padma's wrist as she raised her other fist, full of Floo powder. Luna's voice rang out clear and bright as a bell, "Ottery St. Catchpole!" The powder struck the ground at their feet and Padma was able to catch one last glimpse of the headmistress and Neville, of Hogwarts, before her world caught on fire.

 _This had been her home._

Padma thought of her father's friend who died, and of Parvati's body lying somewhere in the castle. For a heartbeat, she could feel her sister's warm hand entwined with hers, and the scent of incense filled her nose.

Padma closed her eyes and let herself burn.

* * *

 **Author's note: I am not Indian. I want to be as accurate and respectful of the Indian culture as I can be. I researched Hindu burial rites before writing this chapter, and I know that Indian burials vary from person to person, but this is what I wanted for this specific plot point. Still, if I offended anyone or got anything wrong, please let me know and I will do my best to correct the problem. Also, I had to rely on google for my Hindi. So again, let me know if that's wrong.**

 **Follow, favorite, review! You guys have been so wonderful with your feedback. Every review has been so beautifully touching and emotional. I'm so glad you like my story. Stay tuned!**


	12. Chapter 12

Padma didn't have any time at all to explore the town of Ottery St. Catchpole except to glance around the small but tidy local Floo station before Luna's father took her arm and side-along disapparated to his home, after explaining that the house had no Floo because it was Unplottable.

Padma blinked in surprise at her surroundings when magic spit them back out in their new location, the loud cracking sound of their arrival echoing in her ears for a few moments before melting into the peaceful sounds of a summer night.

It took her awhile to realize that she was standing in front of the house, as it was quite literally built into a small hillside that was apparently located in a small forest clearing. The trees and plants were abundant and wild; the only visual evidence of civilization was that one side of the hill, covered in ivy, had a round wooden door and a window. Partially covered by overgrown grass was a series of cracked stones, creating a naturally winding path up to the door. On top of the hill was one enormous and ancient weeping willow tree, its long graceful limbs swaying around the sides of the home in a gentle embrace.

The sight was spellbinding at first. The moonlight shaded everything in muted pearlescent hues and Padma, used to the vibrant opulence of India and the austere elegance of Britain, felt as if she were standing in the home of fairies.

But as her eyes adjusted to the light, she began to notice exactly how unkempt and wild the flora was. The door hung slightly off its hinges and the window was dusty and missing a large piece of glass. Some of the stones were green with moss. It was as if this house was fighting nature itself for its place here in the forest. Fighting; and losing.

Padma felt the creeping feeling of unease.

Then with a soft but sudden _pop,_ Luna appeared beside them. She smiled immediately upon seeing the house. "Oh, Daddy, it's Grandmother and Grandfather Lovegood's home!"

Padma glanced at her new guardian in surprise.

"Yes," He answered her unspoken question with a smile that despite their apparent location at his childhood home, made him seem quite old. His hand drifted towards the house in a gesture that was probably more exuberant before the war. "Welcome to Hillside Hollow, the ancestral home of the Lovegood family." The grand words carried a tired tinge of bitterness in them.

"It's…" The beginning of the sentence slipped out of Padma before she realized she had no idea how to finish it. "Well… it's very… quaint." She said finally, feeling it was as good of an adjective as she could come up with without being dishonest.

"Yes, it is indeed quaint." Mr. Lovegood admitted dryly. "And small."

Padma blushed. She hadn't said that, but Luna's perception was obviously inherited somewhat from her father, for he had obviously heard it in her tone.

Luna seemed a bit more enthusiastic about the whole arrangement. "I think it's rather adorable." She said. "Grandmother used to say that a long time ago, this whole area was filled will tiny houses built into hills just like this one, and that they were home to a tiny species of humanoid creatures." She recited eagerly. "Their name has long been forgotten, but many Lovegoods suspect they were a kind of fairy or dwarf or even a relative of the goblins. I think perhaps they were House Elves, before they were enslaved by wizards."

"A diverting hypothesis, my Luna." Mr. Lovegood praised his daughter. "But you know that there has been evidence that the species that used to live here built rather enormous kitchens and pantries. House Elves are excellent chefs, but they do not require much nutrition themselves. Also, all the footsteps and magically excavated footprints were far too large for any kind of elf, fairy, or even dwarf."

Luna grinned at Padma. "It's been quite the source of discussion and discord at holidays and family reunions… or it was, before Grandmother and Grandfather passed away." Padma flinched, but Luna assured her, "They died a long time ago and they were really very old. They passed quite peacefully." Padma released her breath and nodded.

"Peacefully." Mr. Lovegood chuckled slightly. "They were probably bickering over this very topic right until the very end."

Luna giggled, then shrugged at Padma, "Well I think it's a rather fascinating topic myself."

Padma managed a slight smile in response, the Ravenclaw in her just as intrigued by the combination of myth and mystery. Then, because the night was growing cool despite the season and her body was weak and drained and she couldn't help it, she shivered.

Luna immediately noticed and quickly said, "But we can discuss Lovegood family lore later over a hot cup of tea, after we get settled in. Will you show us around, Daddy? I'll need a tour too, since I haven't been here in ages, not since -" She paused abruptly.

This time when Padma flinched, Luna didn't notice, as the blonde was focused on the way her father seemed to dim with an old sadness made fresh by recent trauma. Luna suddenly looked very young and vulnerable.

Padma felt the quiet urge to say something comforting or distracting, but her own grief was so raw she was only weighed down by the Lovegoods' sorrow.

Luna stepped closer to her father, tucking her head under his long arm. After a moment of heavy silence, it was Mr. Lovegood that lifted it first, squeezing his daughter lovingly before taking a quick breath and straightening up bravely. "Pandora - Luna's mother - and I lived here for awhile right after we got married while we were building our own house. Oddly, I was more eager to leave the house of my birth and my parents than she was. Pandora got on well with my parents, and I'm quite sure they were more fond of her than they were of me." He said without resentment.

Then he chuckled. "When they died, they left her the family home instead of me! I don't think they meant to offend; they were well aware that I was ambivalent towards my inheritance. Since I have no siblings, they left it to their favorite and only daughter, my Pandora." Then he sighed. "After she died, I had even less desire to come here. Since it's Unplottable, I assume it's been sitting here quite unbothered by the world for the past several years. I'd nearly forgotten about it, except for when I escaped from the Death Eaters, I realized I had no other place to go."

Luna and her father both had a quiet moment during which Padma remembered hearing about the Lovegood home being destroyed in an explosion during the confrontation between Mr. Lovegood and the Death Eaters.

When he betrayed Harry Potter.

"A new start in an old place." Luna said encouragingly. "I think it will be good for us." She reached out and lightly squeezed Padma's wrist. "All of us."

* * *

Mr. Lovegood kept apologizing for the dilapidated state of the house, but Padma didn't blame him. She could hardly blame him for falling behind on household chores after escaping from Death Eaters who tortured him and kidnapped his beloved only daughter.

The inside of the house was significantly larger than Padma expected, one long hallway with round rooms branching off of it. Mr. Lovegood confessed that a long time ago the inside of the house matched the proportions of the outside, but an excellent magical expansion and extension charm permanently weaved into the foundation and structure of the home had made it inhabitable for taller witches and wizards such as himself. Mr. Lovegood was over six feet tall and still had over a foot of space between the top of his silvery head and the ceiling.

It was all actually rather charming, with warm mahogany floors and wood-paneled walls and antique furniture. The decor reminded her a bit of what she had heard the Hufflepuff dormitories looked like.

Admittedly, everything was ridiculously dusty and most of the rooms were draped wall to wall with protective sheets; except for the kitchen, pantry, parlor, and the few bedrooms Mr. Lovegood had prepared for necessary habitation.

It sort of reminded Padma of walking through Hogwarts after waking up after the battle, finding everything repaired and intact, yet empty and cold. The same as before, but still so irreversibly different. She could not help but be aware of the generations of life and laughter and love this place had once been home to, and so she could not help but notice how the haunting stillness felt so innately _wrong_.

Luna was cheerful as usual about the whole situation, saying that it would be a fun project for all three of them to turn this place into _their_ home, not just a house. Xenophilius was clearly touched by her words, and Padma could not help but be slightly affected by Luna's infectious attitude, but when Luna showed her to her new room, all thoughts of interior decorating flew from her head as the door closed behind her and Luna's chattering faded down the hallway.

There was only one bed.

Padma's breath froze inside her lungs and her vision darkened around the edges as she was seized by a sudden flash flood of sheer panic.

She had shared a room her whole life, whether with Parvati or her roommates at Hogwarts. She had never been alone before.

Her hands turned into fists and a piece of fabric she forgot she was holding crumpled in between her clenched fingers. She mindlessly unfolded it and stared down in growing anguish and horror.

 _Parvati Patil_

 _Padma Patil_

The only girl from that short list that was still alive staggered as she was blinded by her own name and fell, her knees striking the wooden floor with a dull thud. Her chest heaved as her lungs remembered how to breathe but her throat strangled her breaths into tearless sobs that filled the room that was both too big and too small, crowding in with the shadows.

Her vision blackened even further, her eyes burning from lack of moisture. Padma had never suffered from claustrophobia but now she felt trapped by this hill, this house, this room; by her own _body_. She felt her blood turning into ice and lava inside her veins, fighting for dominance and destroying her in the process like the weeds that were trying to conquer this house, choking all the life from it and turning it from a home into a wood-paneled cemetery.

The door flew open behind her and in flew Luna like a shooting star. "Padma!" She cried. Her cool and pale fingers fluttered over Padma's smoldering brown skin, unsure if it was safe to touch.

Padma tried to stand and turn around at the same time, seeking freedom but instead the darkness from the hallway smacked her in the face and sent her stumbling back into the clutches of her bedroom.

"It's too dark -" The words clawed at her lips and tongue. "I'm alone -" She felt like she was on fire but still all she could see was blackness. "- it's too _dark_ -"

" _Lumos!"_ Luna's voice tingled and shocked like cold water as a bright white light glowed to life at the tip of her wand. "Padma, it's oka. I'm here, you're not alone. I'm right here."

Her hand had settled on her back and moved up and down like ripples in a pond. The physical contact began to bring Padma back to herself, she could feel the scraping of her knees on the floor and how her long hair was partially caught in her robes. The tiny corresponding stinging in her scalp reconnected her to her body and the fire cooled back into flesh and blood.

"I'm so sorry, Padma," Luna's voice quivered. "I wasn't thinking. I should have known not to leave you alone. I'm sorry."

The apology was what finally turned Padma's brain back on with a slamming door of shame. Luna should _not_ be sorry. Padma needed to be _stronger_. She was alone now, and she couldn't fall apart like a raving lunatic every time Luna was more than a few bloody steps away.

 _You're not alone._

Padma snarled inwardly at the voice, whether it be Parvati or herself or anything else. _Yes I am! Parvati is_ dead _and Luna is_ not _my sister and I am_ alone _, so leave me be!_

The anger stabilized her more than the shame, which nevertheless lurked nearby. Padma quickly jolted to her feet, the motion knocking Luna's hand backward awkwardly. "You shouldn't be sorry." She spit out more harshly than she meant to.

She roughly shoved her hair away from her robe and in doing so glanced down where Luna crouched wide-eyed on the ground.

The anger left her in an instant and the shame turned into a softer remorse. Padma sighed, closing her eyes against Luna's damnable innocent face. She took a few measured breaths, reminded herself that she was a _person_ , she was Padma Patil. She knew how to breathe and to stand and she could _do this_.

She deliberately opened her eyes and turned around. Luna had stood and was calmly brushing dust off her clothes. Padma met Luna's gaze and said in a much calmer, more solid voice. "I apologize, Luna. Thank you for coming to help me, but I am fine."

The formality seemed to take Luna aback, but after a moment where the blonde stared intensely and seriously, searching Padma's face for _something,_ she slowly nodded. "Daddy is making tea, if you would like to join us." She offered.

Padma nodded. "I'll be along… I just need a moment… to myself." The words came more hesitantly, but she pushed through. She _needed_ to be alone, even if she desperately didn't want to. She would have to learn.

Luna was understandably reluctant to leave Padma, but she respected Padma's choice and drifted back through the doorway with a soft smile and a murmured spell that lit the lamps in Padma's room, filling it with a warm and gentle light.

Padma tried to maintain her dignity, but her shoulders sagged in sheer relief in the lamplight and she shot Luna a look of intense gratitude.

After Luna left, lighting candles in the hallway as she went, Padma turned back to her room and stared it down. She glared in turn at each piece of furniture, daring it to give her another panic attack, until she finally came to the bed.

She forced her feet to move, carrying her towards the bed. She reached out and touched it. It was a simple bed; a four poster approximately the same size as the one she had back in her dormitory, without the canopy. The sheets were clean and white. There was one pillow. It was neatly covered with an old but sturdy quilt done in an impersonal pattern of faded shades of orange. A color Padma had never really cared for, but that had no reference to Hogwarts or Parvati whatsoever.

(Parvati's favorite color had been purple. Padma had remembered this before, but she had somehow forgotten purple was also _her_ favorite color.)

A flash of purple light filled her mind before Padma pushed it away, nausea turning her stomach over.

She ran her fingers over the quilt, focusing on the color until when she closed her eyes, she could still see the orange shapes in her mind. The quilt felt nice under her hand. It was comfortable and not too heavy or soft. Just solid, simple fabric.

She could learn to live with orange.

When she found herself moving around the room at a normal pace without feeling any emotions beyond mild apathy, Padma decided it was time to join Luna and her father for tea.

She walked down the hallway with her eyes fixed on the light coming from the sitting room. She could see the light dancing slightly on the walls. They must have lit the fireplace. Padma was looking forward to sitting in front of the hearth with a cup of tea, listening to Luna and Mr. Lovegood's eccentric stories and theories.

However, when she came to the doorway, she froze at what she saw.

The tea tray had been forgotten on a low table, two teacups quietly steaming on their saucers. Mr. Lovegood was sitting in a very old but comfortable looking armchair, Luna seated in his lap.

Luna was a very independent and confident young woman, but she was also a little girl who had spent several terrifying months missing her father. Curled up in the fetal position, she had turned her face into her father's chest, her hands clutching his robes in her small white hands. Her thin shoulders trembled slightly. Mr. Lovegood's long arms were wrapped tightly around his daughter, his chin resting on her head, eyes closed. He was murmuring something over and over.

"I've got you, my Luna. Daddy's got you."

Her body moving before her mind could unfreeze, Padma stepped back out of the light and pressed herself against the wall out of sight in the dark hallway. She carefully leaned her head back and took one slow, silent breath.

Then she turned away from Luna and Mr. Lovegood and walked quietly back down the hallway to her room, blowing out candles as she went, leaving darkness in her wake.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Guess what kind of home the Lovegoods live in. *wink***

 **Follow, favorite, review!**


	13. Chapter 13

After that first night, Padma thought perhaps she should withdraw and let Luna and her father reconnect without her intruding, but the very next morning Luna waltzed into Padma's room brandishing a mop and a broom. She struck an odd pose and said, "We're going to give this place a makeover!" She lifted the cleaning tools like trophies. "Mop or broom?"

Despite everything, Padma smiled. "Broom."

The next few days passed in a steady stream of dust cloths and soap suds. Luna kept Padma busy as they washed, dusted, mopped, and swept every inch of the old house. They were both well aware that the cleaning would go more efficiently if Luna used magic, but the blonde happily did the chores alongside a wandless Padma without complaint, and Padma appreciated the gesture too much to point it out.

It was good hard work, simple and satisfying. The old house had been mostly cleaned out of personal effects, so all that was left was old furniture and dishes. There were no family photographs, portraits, or heirlooms. No leftover clothes or toys. As they methodically cleared out every room, Padma became as intimately familiar with the house as Luna and Mr. Lovegood ever were. She began to feel less like an intruder and more like a tenant. She ventured outside to the sprawling wild gardens to help Luna pick flowers to place in vases around the house and helped Mr. Lovegood compile a list of books they could add to the empty shelves in the sitting room.

Luna's father had a habit of always being around the corner from where they were working and checking in on them with a near-constant frequency would annoy most teenagers, but they were unbothered by Mr. Lovegood's hovering, indeed they found it comforting. Luna in particular seemed to bask in her father's attentions after being separated from him for so long.

Padma was admittedly unused to the constant presence of an adult that was not a Hogwarts professor or her parents. Hiran and Priyanka Patil had been very engaged and loving parents, but encouraged their daughters' independence and allowed them to have the run of the estate before sending them off to Hogwarts where daily discipline wasn't their responsibility. And the last few months living in the Room of Requirement, Padma had been surrounded by only her classmates, and in fact had helped be in charge of the younger children.

But Padma didn't mind Mr. Lovegood's presence as long as it made her friend happy. She actually thought Mr. Lovegood was rather sweet, and he was respectful of Padma's emotional state without treating her like she was a ticking time bomb - or worse, like she was made of glass.

In between check-ins, Mr. Lovegood used magic to do any repairs the girls couldn't handle themselves and providing them all with three square meals a day. Padma soon learned that while possessing bizarre culinary tastes that revolved around an assortment of exotic fruits and vegetables Padma had never heard of, he was actually a decent chef that could create perfectly palatable dishes from seemingly inedible ingredients.

One day while they were clearing out cobwebs (without killing any of the spiders, at Luna's insistence and to Padma's mild horror), Mr. Lovegood was right outside their window weeding the garden. He was fully absorbed by his task, and Luna was watching him with solemn curiosity instead of her normal sunny smile.

"He never used to be like this." She murmured.

"Hmm?" Padma responded, distracted by a lone string of cobweb in the corner they had forgotten to sweep up.

"My daddy," Luna explained. "He was never so… involved. When I was little, Mummy took care of me during the day while Daddy did his research and writing." Padma abandoned the cobweb and gave Luna her full attention at the mention of her friend's deceased mother.

Luna was sitting idle for once, broom lying useless in her lap as she fiddled with the handle. Her wide eyes were looking in the direction of her father but seemed to be seeing something... or some _one_ else. "Daddy was so sad after Mummy died." She said in her usual straightforward way. "For months he would hardly leave his bed, and then only to wander around like a ghost or a thestral." Padma mentally added this new term to her growing list of magical creatures to ask Luna about later.

"Then suddenly, it was as if a reverse spell had been cast, and he acted the complete opposite." Luna continued. "He didn't eat or sleep; he spent every hour working on the _Quibbler._ Daddy has always been serious about his work, but he became quite obsessive."

Padma glanced out the window to see Mr. Lovegood staring trance-like at a seemingly unremarkable flower. She could easily imagine him being 'quite obsessive'.

"...it was only then that I realized exactly all the things my mother did for me, things I always took for granted." Luna was saying. "Cooking, cleaning, making sure I brushed my teeth and took baths regularly, picking the Dirigible Plums and warding off the Nargles..."

Padma's lips twitched.

"Then one day the Weasleys came calling," Luna said with a little smile. "When Mrs. Weasley saw the state of the house, she almost keeled over right there. It was like she had seen the Grim!" The blonde laughed loudly. She had been doing that more and more as she spent time with her father, and Padma was grateful. She did not feel like laughing much at all, but Luna's unabashed cackles were so full of life and light. "Mrs. Weasley shooed me off to go play with Ginny, and she must have given Daddy a very stern talking to, because after that day he was much better." Luna said happily, before adding honestly, "But he never did stop being absentminded. He was always better about encouraging me to think and ask questions than reminding me to wash up and do my chores."

Padma remembered when Luna had first come to Hogwarts. She hadn't spent much time with her personally, but on a slow gossip day the Ravenclaw girls liked to snigger about the dotty new girl who never brushed her hair and was always losing her shoes, who didn't talk about homework or boys like most girls did but instead preferred to sit in open windows and go 'talk' to the Giant Squid who lived in the Black Lake.

Luna was still unconventional, but now her clothes and hair were always clean and well cared for, and she spent more time with her friends than chasing after magical creatures. Padma wondered when exactly she had changed.

Of course Luna seemed to know what Padma was thinking about. She smiled easily at her friend and explained, "I didn't have a lot of female friends at Hogwarts, but Ginny more than made up for it. She talked a lot about fashion and quidditch, and she was fierce enough to keep people from teasing me. I would spend a lot of time with her and Mrs. Weasley during the holidays. Mrs. Weasley never tried to take my mummy's place, but I think after taking care of so many boys, she enjoyed taking care of a girl who wasn't as dramatic and headstrong as Ginny." She said this in such a way that Padma suspected that was a direct quote from Mrs. Weasley.

Padma smiled slightly. She had never really gotten to know the feisty redhead, but even she could safely say that 'dramatic and headstrong' was an apt description. She had always thought that Parvati and Ginny would have been good friends; they had such similar dispositions. But Parvati had always gravitated more towards Lavender or Padma herself, and Ginny had spent most of her time with Luna, or other Gryffindors.

Luna was now looking out the window again, but not at her father. This time she glanced out as if expecting to see something in the distance, but the sight of the surrounding forest had her brow crinkling in disappointment and she quickly looked away. She caught Padma watching her and blushed a pale pink. "It's odd, to look outside and not see the smoke from the Weasleys' chimney over the hill." She explained. "I wonder if Ginny also looks outside her window and is confused not to see our house anymore…"

Padma saw the concern and longing plain on Luna's face and recognized it as an echo of the torment inside herself. She came to kneel beside her friend. "Ginny is your best friend." She said softly.

"I thought Ginny was my _only_ friend for quite a long time." Luna replied, then beamed at Padma. "Now I know I have many friends, like you and Neville and Harry."

Her usual frank manner was colored with a fondness that Padma then realized had been absent for the first few years of her schooling. Luna had always seemed so unflappable, but now she remembered how lonely and cautious the girl had been after opening up and trying to be herself and make friends after the death of her mother and being thoroughly rejected by her peers. Padma was now angry and hurt on Luna's behalf, because how could anyone turn away someone so sweet and genuine, even if she _was_ a bit eccentric?

Not for the first time, Padma regretted never reaching out to her fellow Ravenclaw before. She had no real need for company beyond Parvati outside the dormitories, but she wondered at how her life could have been enriched by Luna if they had been close for seven years rather than just recently.

Then she felt awfully guilty for depriving Ginny, who was Luna's oldest and truest friend, of Luna's comfort while she grieved the death of her brother because of her own sudden and dramatic intrusion into Luna and Mr. Lovegood's life.

"Oh Luna," she said, "Have you even been able to see the Weasleys since the… since we left Hogwarts?"

Luna's suddenly careful silence was all the answer she needed. Luna was only tactful when she wanted to protect someone's feelings, and she only chose to be silent if she didn't want to lie.

"Luna." Padma softly prodded.

"No, I haven't." Luna finally admitted. "Ginny hasn't left her mother's side since Fred died, which I think is good. Mrs. Weasley is best at being a mother, and now one of her children is dead. She probably thinks she failed as a mother. She'll be even more protective of her other children now." Luna said, not unkindly. Then she surprised Padma by adding, "And when I heard what happened to you and Parvati I went right to the hospital wing. I didn't want you to wake up in a hospital bed alone." Her voice grew abruptly detached. "No one should wake up somewhere alone after experiencing something terrible."

"But… You didn't even know me." Padma protested weakly.

Luna looked confused. "Why does that matter? You needed somebody. I'm somebody."

Padma found it hard to speak normally through the emotion constricting her throat, but she made a valiant effort. "Yes. Yes you are, Luna."

Luna colored slightly. "Well. It could have been anybody. It could have been Cho, if she had just believed in you. I think Cho has had a hard time believing in anything since Cedric died." She commented. "But she did come to the hospital wing with me when I went to fetch her, which was nice of her. It was a step in the right direction."

"You were the one that brought Cho?" Padma asked, realizing that she had assumed that it was the other way around. "Wait… Who brought you?" She asked, before quickly clarifying at Luna's obvious confusion (she could already predict Luna's answer: _I brought myself, of course.) "_ I mean, who told you that I… Who told you what happened? Who told you where I was?"

"Oh." Luna said. "I overheard Zacharias Smith telling Neville that he thought you killed Parvati." She made a face like she had tasted gillywater that had too much salt in it. "He's not a very nice boy. It's funny how so many people that were on our side during the war weren't very nice, isn't it?"

"Hmm." Padma made a noncommittal noise, trying not to think about Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I think Zacharias Smith was very tired of being ignored. He's muggleborn, you know." Luna said in that sweetly thoughtful way of hers. "I think he thought having magic would make him special and he would get glory or something like that. Maybe he would in the Muggle world, but when he got to Hogwarts and realized everyone had magic, instead of being happy just being himself or trying to improve and make a difference, he grew bitter and chose to criticize people like Harry Potter, who got so much attention during the war. Too bad he never realized attention is not the same as glory. Harry is famous because his parents died. I think Harry would give anything to be as normal and ignored as Zacharias Smith."

"That makes a lot of sense." Padma said. "My father used to say that war is hell, but devils know how to profit from the torture of sinners." She frowned. "I never quite understood what he meant… but I think I do now." She said, choosing to focus on the puzzle of her father's words rather than the pain of remembering him. "I agree that Zacharias was bitter, so I think he tried to profit from the war. He always tried to insert himself into the drama, ever since we started Dumbledore's Army. I wonder if he got what he wanted." She said through gritted teeth, turning back to viciously attack the cobweb.

"He was sorted into Hufflepuff." Luna said from behind her. "He must have some kindness and loyalty in him. Perhaps Zacharias only ever wanted the chance to be someone's friend, but no one ever thought he was good enough just as he was. So he thought he had to be special to everyone in order to be special to just one person." Luna was quiet for a split second. "I know what that's like."

Padma had begun to notice that for an open book like Luna, the more apathetic her voice sounded, the deeper her emotions were. She turned back to face her friend and said thoughtfully. "You should be a therapist, Luna, like one of the heart-and-mind healers at St. Mungo's. I think you would be quite good at it."

"Oh." Luna was pleased. "Well thank you, Padma. I've never thought about being a heart-and-mind healer - they're called _cormentors_ , by the way, after the Latin words for 'heart', _cor_ , and 'mind', _mentis_." She added in the eagerly fascinated tone of someone sharing information, before smiling and continuing, "But I've always wanted to be a naturalist or a magizoologist. People are too hard." She said with a shrug. "I've tried very hard my whole life to understand other people, and I think it's helped because now I have friends, but that's all I want. I find people fascinating, but after this war… I would much prefer to study animals. They are so wondrous and magical, but so simple at the same time. Everything they do is to follow a purpose or a pattern. They don't hurt others for no reason." Her eyes were distant and shuttered.

Padma wondered what exactly Luna had gone through during her captivity.

"...I didn't know they were called cormentors." Padma said finally. "It's interesting that the word sounds like _dementor,_ when they serve opposite functions." She mentioned.

"There aren't very many of them." Luna said. "We have potions and spells that can alter someone's state of mind, so I think it can seem superfluous to study the intricacies of the human psyche as Muggles do when we have magic to fix things."

"Magic doesn't fix everything." Padma said hollowly. "I think for too long we have had too many dementors, and not enough cormentors. Perhaps it's time for that to change."

Luna was smilingly proudly at her. "You know, Padma, I think _you_ would make a good healer. You're very smart and kind, but you can also be quite fierce and stubborn sometimes."

"Me, a healer?" Padma said incredulously. She laughed a little. "Maybe before… I would have considered it. But I'm too messed up now. I don't think I could fix anyone if I can't even fix myself. Besides, they probably won't let me anywhere near magical patients." She scoffed. "I'm a mentally unstable underage murderer, remember?"

Now Luna was frowning. "You are none of those things, Padma Patil. You're going through something very terrible and hard right now, but you will get better. And when you do, I think you're going to do amazing things." She vowed, sounding very serious and prophetic despite the dust on her clothes and the smudges of dirt on her face.

Padma smiled a little and decided to humor her. "Whatever you say, Luna." Luna grinned, but flushed a little at her dramatic proclamation.

The girls returned to their task then, working in companionable silence for a while before Padma said softly, "Luna?"

"Yes?"

Padma fiddled with the handle of her broom for a moment. "You know earlier, how you said that it could have been anybody who came to me…?"

"Yes…" Luna said slowly.

Padma said quietly, "Well, I'm really glad it was you."

A surprised, happy smile spread across Luna's pale face, and Padma turned away, feeling better than before.

For the rest of the day, they cleaned out the old houses sweeping out dust and opening curtains, letting in light.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I love writing the development of Padma and Luna's friendship :)**

 **P.S. the cormentors are my own creation. I have no idea if JK Rowling invented magical therapists, so I did just in case. It will become relevant to my story soon.**

 **Follow, favorite, review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**DEAR READERS,**

This is not a new chapter, and I am so sorry about that. This is a quick memo to explain my absence. Months ago, my laptop broke and I have been without the means to get it fixed. My laptop has all of my story files and information on it. The only time I have enough computer access to write is when I'm at work, and I can't write during that time because I am obviously working. I've been trying to write bit by bit so that when I do get my laptop fixed I can begin updating without delay, but it's been difficult. There's also been some really tough stuff going on in my personal life, not to mention America's awful political climate, that has sapped my inspiration for writing.

Anyway, all of this to say that I have not abandoned my stories and that I dearly hope you guys haven't abandoned me either. Your continued reviews, follows, and favorites have been extremely touching and motivating. I hope to see you soon, with updates!

Sincerely,

StainedGlassSkyscrapers


	15. Chapter 15

The owl pecking on the window startled Padma. Her mind and body were still sluggish from sleep and the hot tea Mr. Lovegood had carefully made for her, wiggling a finger at her that looked to be sporting a ring version of a Remembrall and saying something nonsensical about 'never forgetting the water again', was only just beginning to penetrate her night-chilled fingers and toes.

Luna calmly glanced up from where she was writing on her napkin (upon being asked why, she had responded seriously, "I believe that all the greatest literature has had the humblest beginnings. From napkins to novels!") and said to her father, who was reading a book upside down and did not appear to have noticed their avian visitor, "Daddy, there's an owl at the window."

"What kind of owl is it, my Luna?" He asked absently, leisurely flipping a page and not moving from his seat. Padma wondered if she should just go let in the poor bird herself, but she did not feel it was appropriate to retrieve another witch or wizard's mail while she was merely a guest in their home.

Besides, owls had bitten people for much lesser offenses.

Luna blinked her own pair of owlish eyes at the bird, who was beginning to peck in a rather impatient manner at being kept waiting. " _Asio flammeus."_ She reported. "A short-eared owl. They can be found in most parts of Scotland."

"They can be found on every continent except for Antarctica and Australia." Mr. Lovegood corrected his daughter mildly. "And I suspect they are also on the secret continent of Mu, although I have never traveled there to confirm it."

Padma stared at her guardian before cautiously peering into her cup and wondering what exactly was in her tea.

" _Flammeus_ means 'flame coloured'." Mr. Lovegood commented. "Is the bird flame coloured, my Luna?"

"He is a lovely mix of gray and brown and white feathers, Daddy." Luna said. The bird in question has given up pecking and was staring sulkily at them through the window. Padma shrugged at it apologetically. It was indifferent. "I haven't seen any flames those colours, so I suppose he is not truly flame coloured but I am open to new information." Luna looked at Padma. "A fire with gray flames would be most mysterious, don't you think?"

Padma gave it as much genuine consideration as she could manage. "Well. I suppose so."

"As do I!" Mr. Lovegood enthused. "What a diverting notion, my dear! Too bad all current evidence does not support it." He clucked his tongue and returned to his reading.

"I shall have to do some research some day to see if I can create a gray fire. Then _Asio flammeus_ can be true to its name." Luna mused. "I wonder what colour ash gray fire would produce…"

"Luna." Padma interjected gently, finally deciding to take pity on the long suffering animal. "I think the owl would appreciate your theories more if he was _inside."_

"Oh!" Luna bounced from her seat and skipped to the window. "You're quite right, Padma. You are so much more thoughtful than the average person!" She praised her friend who blinked at the odd compliment and glanced at the owl, thinking it would commiserate with her as another living thing hopefully operating within the normal parameters of sanity. Alas, the bird ignored her as it swooped inside to drop the mail onto the table, then without further ado flew as fast as it could back outside and off into the sky.

Luna waved goodbye and charmed one of their organic homemade original recipe owl treats to fly after it (Padma, having seen other owls' reactions to the treats, privately hoped the bird would be able to avoid it). Then the blonde danced her way back to the breakfast table to sort through the mail.

"Oh, that must have been Headmistress McGonagall's new owl, Brian." Luna exclaimed, before frowning slightly. "Hmm… if I were going to name an owl after Dumbledore, I would have picked Percival or Wulfric. Those names are far more interesting. "

"I would have named him Yoshimitsu." Mr. Lovegood added his two knuts worth. "Or maybe BAM or ZAP! I do love a good onomatopoeia." He said happily, before asking, "How about you, Padma? What would you have designated our esteemed feathered fellow? ...Padma?"

Padma had frozen at the mention of the headmistress and was staring unseeing at the envelopes addressed in familiar green ink, but written with McGonagall's precise script rather than Dumbledore's spidery calligraphy.

 _"Ready, Addie?"_ Parvati's eleven-year-old voice echoed in her memory. _"Let's do it together. One… two… three!"_

" _Dear Miss Patil, we are pleased to inform you…"_ They had read together, voices growing in volume and enthusiasm with every word.

" _Ooh, Addie, it's happening! It's really happening! We're going to Hogwarts!"_

When she and Parvati had turned eleven, their Hogwarts letters had come as no surprise. The twins had been looking forward to it for years, ever since they had first shown signs of magic. But actually being able to open the envelopes and feel the parchment under their small fingers and read the words out loud had been thrilling.

Now, she watched Luna pick up the letter addressed to her and she felt a weight and an emptiness inside of her all at once.

Luna carefully opened the envelope, and pulled out a modest piece of parchment printed with somber black ink. She read out loud, "'In memory of all whom have been lost…'" Her expressive face grew very still. "Oh."

Mr. Lovegood glanced up at his daughter's voice and immediately put down his book. With an expression of growing solemnity, he opened the letter addressed to him. "Ah." He said quietly. He exchanged a heavy glance with his daughter, who seemed to be very specifically _not_ looking at Luna.

"You needn't try to spare my feelings." Padma spoke up before either of them could find words. "I know what it is. An invitation to the funeral, right?"

To his credit, Mr. Lovegood did not even try to deny it. "Correct." He said simply, briefly scanning the text before offering it to Padma. "Do not feel as if you must." He said, and she was not sure if he was referring to just the letter or something else.

Mechanically, she reached out and took the letter from him.

 _In Memory of All Whom Have Been Lost:_

 _In honor of our fallen friends and family,_

 _Memorial services will be held at Hogwarts Castle on the 23rd of May._

 _There will be a sunset service to mourn the dead, followed by a sunrise service to celebrate their lives._

 _These memorial services are invite only. The attendance of guests who were not specifically invited must be cleared by the offices of Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall._

 _Invited guests are welcome to spend the night at Hogwarts, or at the Three Broomsticks' inn at Hogsmeade, who have generously donated use of their amenities to memorial attendees free of charge._

 _Thank you._

 _NON EST AD ASTRA MOLLIS E TERRIS VIA_

" _There is no easy way from the earth to the stars."_

Padma's fingers traced the Latin words. "No easy way…" She murmured aloud.

"That's a lovely saying." Luna said. "But quite sad."

"It has been my experience that many sad things are often lovely, and vice versa." Mr. Lovegood commented. "But it is quite difficult for people to see both at the same time."

Padma slid the parchment back to him, as it suddenly felt too heavy for her to hold. "The saying _is_ lovely," She said softly. "But sometimes sad things are just sad." A solid silence followed her words, and Padma felt as if she would break under the pressure. She made to leave the table, but Luna stopped her.

"There's a note for you, Padma."

The note was in McGonagall's handwriting, on a ripped piece of the same parchment used to fashion the memorial invitations. She fingered the torn edges but did not pick it up, idly wondering why McGonagall did not use a roll of parchment that was still whole, before finally reading the note itself:

 _Dear Padma,_

 _I write to inform you that Parvati's body has been cremated, according to the Hindu rites you specified. I personally oversaw the ritual from beginning to end to ensure your wishes were honored. Your sister's ashes are waiting for you at Hogwarts, as Minister Shacklebolt has informed me it is illegal to transport remains of any kind - human or animal - via Owl mail, and as the Lovegood home is Unplottable, I am unable to send someone to deliver them to you. I assumed you would not want a stranger handling such a delicate matter, so I have the urn in my personal possession. I assure you they are quite safe. It is my hope that you will attend the memorial services so that I may release your sister's remains to you. If you do not wish to come, please send someone else with a letter expressing your permission for them to take the remains._

 _I hope you are doing well, and remember what I said to you upon our last farewell. If you ever have need of anything, please feel the freedom to write to me at anytime._

 _Sincerely,_

 _M. McGonagall_

Padma stared at the words for a long time before refolding it with a deep, shuddering breath. Parvati had been cremated. Her sister's soul was no more, and now neither was her body.

Perhaps Padma should have felt relief, or closure. She did not.

Luna spoke, misreading the source of Padma's conflict. "You don't have to decide if you want to go or not just yet. Give it a few days. The service is not for another week."

"A few days." Padma nodded slowly, reaching for her teacup. "Alright."

* * *

Time passed much as it always does, and a few days soon turned into seven, and on the afternoon of May 23rd, Padma found her friend in her room laying out two pairs of robes: one a lovely misty gray that matched her eyes for the funeral service, and the other a bright sunshine yellow for the sunrise celebration. Padma waited patiently in the doorway for her friend to notice her before silently handing her McGonagall's letter. On the back she had written one word:

 _Luna_.

The girl in question read the headmistress' words and realization widened her liquid eyes. "Padma…" She began.

"I'm sorry." Padma interrupted in a whisper. "I know it's an unbelievable thing to ask of you, but I just… I can't do it. I can't go back there. I can't be there with all those people who may or may not think me capable of murdering my own sister. And you… you're the only person I truly trust anymore. You're the only person I have left." She looked down at the ground. "Please."

To her surprise, Luna didn't protest or persuade. She didn't say a word. Her pale hand reached out and paused, hovering in the space between them like an angel standing between heaven and hell. Then she reached out to take the letter, her fingers brushing against Padma's darkness.

"Okay."

That night Padma was tortured by dreams of being burned alive and buried alive at the same time, a young Parvati's panicked voice whispering in one ear, and shrieking laughter in the other, accompanied by flashes of violet light, frightened brown eyes, and ruined teeth in a twisted smile.

She woke up sweating and chilled by the cold air coming in from the open window. Knotting the tie of her dressing gown with shaking hands, she quickly slammed the shutters closed and took the candle Luna had left on her bedside table, gathered up her orange quilt, and hurried down the dark hallway to the parlor where Mr. Lovegood had left a charmed fire burning cheerily in the hearth. She made herself a cup of tea and curled up on the window seat, staring up at the starry night sky and trying not to think.

But try as she might, a memory floated through her mind of the horrible night when Dumbledore died, of everyone raising their wands towards the Dark Mark slithering in the sky and letting the light chase away the darkness. The memory was tinged bittersweet with tragedy and solidarity, and then she understood how sad things could also be lovely.

Padma sipped her tea and found her eyes wandering in the direction even though she knew it was impossible, she thought that far away she could see distant shimmering lights rising from the treetops to join the stars.

Padma stayed awake until her eyes began to burn with exhaustion, but still she forced herself to stay in the conscious realm, silently warring against the possibility of nightmares.

But tonight sleep came to her as a friend, slipping quietly inside with the cool night breeze. A soft embrace of the faintest smell of jasmine and vanilla, and gentle hands reached out to pass over Padma's suffering eyelids and gave them relief from the grief of reality, just for the night.

Padma fell asleep like she was slipping underwater, and as she sank a single word left her lips on a sigh.

" _Parvati."_

Padma slept so long and deep that waking up felt like trying to undo the petrification curse. It was as if her body was stone and her mind floated somewhere above, aware of the warm sun and sounds of the surrounding forest in the morning but unable to feel her own lungs and limbs.

Instead of panicking, however, Padma remembered what this day would bring and tried to send herself back into that blissful oblivion.

Something dark and deep separated from the murky shadows of her ravaged heart and whispered, _you don't want to wake up at all, do you?_

Padma did not answer. She did not have to. The voice beckoned to her with dark, soothing lulls. _It would be easy. Just come over here. It's dark and quiet. You can rest. You can be with Parvati._

Padma's mind or soul or whatever it was that existed in this suspended realm, drifted over to a precipice she vaguely remembered. But it was no screaming, whirling vortex now. It was calm and peaceful.

 _Does it hurt?_ She asked.

 _Quicker than falling asleep._ The voice assured her.

Padma waited for that floral presence; the gentleness that told her Parvati was here. She felt nothing.

 _She's waiting for you. All you have to do is fall…_

Padma leaned over the edge, her fractured pieces yearning for the abstract completion the darkness would bring. She was so tired of her brokenness being forced into the unforgiving sunlight, day after day.

She reached out, and felt something black and liquid, pulsing with crackling, volatile energy. It felt oily and sick and violent.

She reared backward. _This is wrong. This isn't what I want._

The darkness surged and roared around her in wordless howls of rage. Padma tried to escape, tried to wake herself up, but she could not find her eyes to open them or her mouth to cry out for help. Her body remained still while her soul was consumed.

"Padma?"

 _Luna!_

At the sound of her friend's fresh, airy voice, something glimmered within her and from the middle of the maelstrom glowed a familiar, heartbreaking light.

 _Parvati?_

She felt flower petals, and the feathered thrum of hummingbird's wings, and somewhere deeper still, the muted thunder of a lion's roar.

 _I'm here, Addie. You can do this. You can fight her._

Padma was slowly trying to unfurl herself, but Parvati's soft words confused her. _Her?_

"Padma? Are you awake?"

Parvati's presence swirled and shoved her hard, and Padma's eyes snapped open.

Luna skittered backward from where she was bending over Padma, looking mildly concerned. "Oh good." She breathed, briefly touching her heart. "I was getting a bit fretful because you weren't waking up right away. I suppose it was silly of me to worry, hm? You haven't been sleeping well; I'm glad you finally got some rest."

Padma didn't answer right away, cautiously testing the strength of her limbs and blank sanity of her mind before slowly sitting up, pushing the quilt off her legs. She had fallen asleep in the window seat, and her joints protested having been in that position for too long.

"Rest." She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to physically wipe away the bizarre experience she had just had. "Yeah, sure." She mumbled, hoping it was convincing. She needn't have worried; Luna simply hummed in response and moved to sit next to Padma, looking uncharacteristically fidgety.

Padma took in her friend's sunflower-hued robes that were a bit startling at first glance but quite lovely at the second, and the reason why she wore them came in the same fashion; it hit her with a force that threatened to overwhelm her before smoothing out into the hollow pain she had felt since Parvati died. She didn't think the feeling would ever truly go away.

"The memorial," Padma said, unaware she had spoken out loud until Luna's gaze fluttered her way. She cleared her throat, but couldn't think of what to say next. Actually, she had far too much to say, but she had no idea the right way to express it. She didn't want to sound overly emotional; she had burdened Luna with enough lately and the girl had just come back from a _funeral,_ for Rowena's sake. But she didn't want to sound too casual either; the thought of Luna thinking her apathetic was worse than anything else.

Everyone else doubted her love for her sister. She didn't know what she would do if the one person who had believed in her so far began to doubt her too.

So she sat there in paralyzed silence, before casting Luna a desperate glance, hoping it conveyed everything in her at that moment.

Luna's hand disappeared into the folds of her robes where it fisted, her pale brow furrowed and mouth a thin twisted line. She looked almost guilty, a realization which startled Padma. "Luna?" She asked tentatively.

"I've done something that's maybe horrible." Luna blurted out. "I was trying to be thoughtful, but now that I've done it I think it might have been quite thoughtless and I hope you can forgive me, but I will completely understand if you don't -"

"Luna," Padma interrupted, wanting to be reassuring but starting to get worried. "What… what did you do?"

Luna's eyes looked very big in her face, contorted and upset as it was. "The headmistress gave me Parvati's ashes." She said, her words coming in short, too-loud bursts.

 _Parvati's ashes._

The words hit Padma hard, sinking into her like the blade of a knife and carving at the hollow inside her until she felt like she was nothing but a shell. She had reviled knowing the location of her sister's body, but knowing that her sister's body had been reduced to the rubble she had lay dying in, and that it was the result of _her_ decision, was almost too much to bear. This was it, she could _feel_ herself cracking and breaking, and she briefly and wildly wished for that explosive anger or that crippling pain because that at least was _something,_ and something was better than this suffocating _nothingness -_

"She was - it was just this horrid little box, small and wooden and plain and it was just like a tiny coffin, and I know you didn't want Parvati to be buried, but that little box seemed just as bad. I know it wasn't the headmistress' intention, she has had ever so much to do and I doubt she would have presumed to find a suitable urn for your sister but - but that _box_." Sharp indignation lanced through her worried rambling and the sound of it made Padma feel something like the feeling you get just before smiling. She couldn't follow the feeling into action, couldn't make her muscles move that way just now, but she clung to the feeling even as it left her, like watching a bird fly away and knowing you never will.

"I was so upset as Daddy and I flew back home and I had to hold that little box, and I just couldn't imagine giving that to you. But we got here and I saw you sleeping here and you looked so still and calm and I couldn't bear for you to wake up and find me holding your sister's ashes in that ugly little prison." Luna sounded positively wretched, and Padma was touched but confused by where she could be going with this. Luna was very clearly not in possession of the box, but then what had she done with it?

"So…" Luna's voice slowed but remained apprehensive, and the hand in her robes slowly withdrew, and Padma saw she was holding something. "I… I went into your room and I," She bit her lip, "I went through Parvati's trunk without your permission." Her face flushed bright red as these words burst out of her, and she looked both relieved and terrified.

Padma blinked. _That_ was the 'horrible thing' Luna had done? She waited for Luna to explain, but the blonde sat there in quivering silence, her tiny form bent over from the weight of her remorse as she waited for Padma's judgment upon her actions.

"Why?" She finally asked.

Luna's eyes grew wider. "You're not angry?" She asked hopefully.

"Luna," Padma sighed, feeling almost amused. "You are quite possibly the most thoughtful, considerate, and compassionate person that has ever existed. Everything you do, you do for a good reason, even if others think it's silly or strange. I don't…" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't love the idea of someone going through Parvati's things… I can barely bring myself to even look at her trunk… but you're my friend, Luna. I trust you." She shrugged.

Luna was transformed. She beamed brightly, her eyes shining with emotion, but before any uncomfortable displays of affection, she took a deep breath and sat up straight, returning to the calm, sweet girl Padma knew. "Thank you, Padma." She said sincerely. "Still… I hope this is comforting, like I intended, and that I haven't overstepped. If I did, though, I'm really very sorry."

Her small white hand reached out and turned over, revealing a delicate golden necklace with a ruby pendant. Padma gasped, her hand flying up to cover its sapphire twin, which lay against her collarbone, as familiar to her as the feel of her own skin. Their mother had gifted them the necklaces their first holiday home from Hogwarts, to celebrate their respective sortings. Padma, who didn't wear much jewelry, had adored the necklace and never took it off. Parvati also loved hers, but as she grew older and her tastes in fashion and accessories fluctuated by the day, she only wore hers when the mood struck her.

The day they found out their parents were missing, Parvati had put on the necklace without comment. She had barely taken it off in those last months.

Padma felt tears rush to her eyes. She hadn't even realized Parvati wasn't wearing her necklace that day and it tore at her to know of yet another thing, however small, that had separated them.

Luna spoke up in a small voice. "Her… her ashes… I put them into the pendant. It's a spell my mother invented, to create amulets and talismans that could be personalized and therefore carry stronger charms. Yours doesn't have any charms on it, I didn't want to presume. Just… just Parvati." She finished in a murmur, her fingers fluttering up to her own ever-present butterbeer cork necklace when she spoke of her mother.

Padma's gaze sharpened on Luna's necklace. Luna's mother. _Does that mean -_

Luna noticed her look, and smiled a small, wavering thing. "My father buried my mother, but he took a lock of her hair and made us both small talismans to wear," She confirmed, fingers twining around the butterbeer corks. "So she could always be with us in a tangible way, not just spiritually. I've really needed that, over the years. I thought you might need that, too." She finished shyly.

Padma stared at the small ruby pendant, glimmering beautifully in the morning light. _Parvati._

"I…" She cleared her throat as best she could, knotted with emotion as it was. "Thank you, Luna." She said simply. She couldn't put into words what this gift meant to her, because she didn't quite know it yet herself. With sheer force of will, she managed to reach out and wrap her fingers around the necklace, the jewel warm with magic and contact with Luna's palm. She smiled at her friend, hoping to absolve her of any lingering fear or guilt she might have.

It must have been convincing, because Luna smiled dreamily back.

Padma didn't know what to do now, Parvati's necklace clutched in her hand. She realized she was still wearing the clothes she had slept in, and Luna was still wearing the clothes she had worn to the funeral and she didn't think she would be able to be around Luna in that sunflower-yellow robe she had worn as their friends and classmates had been buried, so she was about to suggest they both go change for the day when Luna spoke up again.

"Oh. Headmistress McGonagall wanted me to give this to you." She said, only a bit of trepidation in her pretty face. She reached back into her robes and withdrew a small scroll that she enlarged presumably to its original size with a murmured countercharm. "It's your diploma."

Padma jerked backward, unable to hide her shock. "Diploma?" She repeated dumbly.

Luna nodded. "The school is giving them to all the seventh year students who had to go through _this_ particular year. They're allowing people to return to take the classes if they wish, when the school reopens, but I suppose they didn't believe they could in good conscience withhold diplomas after everything that's happened."

"In good conscience?" Padma asked bitterly, insides shriveling at the ugly memory of how they were treating her in the wake of Parvati's death.

Luna paused, her look sympathetic. "It's not right." She said. "You should be allowed to return to Hogwarts, if you wanted. You should have been believed innocent from the very beginning. You should have been given a choice. But… I think this is all the Headmistress could do." She finished gently.

Padma felt a hand cover hers in memory, older and more wrinkled but still strong. _Sher ka bachcha._ She nodded, not saying anything, and reached out to take the scroll, sealed with the Hogwarts crest.

Luna hesitated again. Padma didn't think she had ever seen Luna hesitate over her own words as much as she had in this conversation, and hated herself a little bit because of it. She didn't ever want Luna to hesitate around her. She tried to look as normal and approachable and safe as possible.

"Parvati's diploma is also in there." Luna said finally.

Padma felt then how the scroll was slightly too heavy for just one piece of parchment and realized that in one hand she held her sister, or what was left of her… and in the other hand, she held the symbol of her sister's future she never got to have.

Her hands and eyes were scorched with the knowledge and she wanted to drop these cheap tokens that could _never_ replace what she had lost. She wanted them to be made of glass, so she could hurl them against the wall and watch them shatter and she wanted to shatter too. She wanted them to _burn,_ she wanted them to _explode_ and she could feel magic swelling within her and it felt hot and sharp like blood and she didn't want to stop it, she wanted to _destroy-_

"Padma?" Luna's voice, more careful than she had ever heard it, fluttered around her like a butterfly.

Padma stood up so fast her legs nearly buckled from the shock of the movement. "I'm going to go change out of these clothes," She said in a relatively normal voice that still sounded too loud in her own ears, already walking away.

"Padma -"

Luna's concerned voice made her stop, take a deep breath, and turn around to smile at the blonde as easily as she could, her mouth stretching in a way that felt wrong on her face. "I'm fine, Luna." She reassured, the lie echoing inside of her hollow heart.

Luna obviously did not believe her, but as always seemed to know when to push and when to back off. "Will you be joining me and Daddy for afternoon tea?" She asked instead.

Padma's brain was unable to wrap around the concept of the future while holding Parvati's diploma in her white-knuckled grip, even a future as close as that, now that she had tactile proof that Parvati would not be able to be apart of her life, her future, ever again.

"Of course." Is what she said.

She left Luna sitting there in the growing light, a sunbeam in her own right, always as she walked away further into shadows.

* * *

It was only after reaching the privacy of the room that was now hers that Padma puts on the necklace. She stood in front of the small mirror mounted above the dresser, staring at the face nearly identical to Parvati's, and with trembling fingers fastened the tiny gold clasp around her neck. Her neck is a big wider than Parvati's was, and the necklace falls shorter, the ruby pendant coming to rest just above its sapphire sister.

Her hand came up to cover the stones, pressing them hard against her heart until she felt it bruise. She closed her eyes against the reflection of the terrible emptiness in her gaze and stood there, shaking but somehow still standing, still breathing, still alive.

She stood there, a girl wearing two necklaces in a room with just one bed, and she cried.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I had this mostly written already, and a friend graciously allowed me the use of their computer to finish and post. I hope to be updating again soon.**


	16. Chapter 16

"Padma, my Luna and I have been invited over for supper at the Burrow this evening, and I would like for you to accompany us." Mr. Lovegood announced, as casually as if he had dropped a newspaper on a front stoop and not a bomb on their afternoon tea.

Padma froze, a biscuit halfway to her mouth. "The Burrow? Where the Weasleys live?" She repeated dubiously.

"That is what I said." Mr. Lovegood was looking at her with a combination of fatherly expectation of obedience, the shrewdness of a lawyer preparing for an argument, and the fascination of a scientist wanting to test out a hypothesis. It was alarming.

She shot a sharp, desperate glance at Luna but found no ally there, as Luna looked not the least bit surprised or concerned. In fact, she looked more excited than Padma had seen her since that time a few weeks ago when she found an animal print in the woods she claimed belonged to a umgubular slashkilter (Padma had no wealth of knowledge about magical creatures beyond knowing to stay far, far away from anything Hagrid would consider a pet, but she found herself skeptical of Luna's identification nonetheless. Still, it was nice to see Luna so happy about magical creatures again… a surreal return to what Padma would have never expected to call normalcy in her life).

Padma's eyes narrowed as she recalled Luna's cheerier than normal demeanor the past week since a clumsy owl had arrived with a letter for Mr. Lovegood, and began to suspect this was a planned ambush.

" _This_ evening?" She asked with feigned surprise. "I never thought Mrs. Weasley would be the type to send out supper invitations so last minute."

Mr. Lovegood didn't bat an eye. "I believe Arthur Weasley was in charge of the event notifications, as the letter came in his penmanship, and while the man is a good friend of mine he can get rather distracted."

Here Luna and Padma did share a meaningful glance at Xenophilius Lovegood calling someone _distracted._

"Does the invitation include me?" Padma asked carefully.

The slight pause Mr. Lovegood gave before his response was all the answer she needed. "Not specifically by name…"

Padma sighed, feeling both relieved and resigned. "Mr. Lovegood, do they even know I'm staying with you and Luna?" She frowned a little. "Does anyone know?" It would be strange if no one knew where she was and no one had tried to find her, but it would also be comforting. This little house had become her sanctuary, and she was starting to panic at the thought of leaving it.

"Of course people know." Mr. Lovegood said. "Minerva McGonagall, for one, and Kingsley Shacklebolt -"

Padma was already shaking her head. "Do the Weasleys know you're my legal guardian? That you're the legal guardian of an accused murderer?"

Luna and her father both frowned deeply at Padma, but she was frowning herself, something churning in the back of her mind, a thought half-formed. "Legal guardian." She muttered. "Mr. Lovegood, have I ever asked you why…"

"Don't try to change the subject, Padma." Mr. Lovegood said calmly, taking it upon himself to refill her teacup. "Here you go," He said as he handed it back to her.

Padma absently took a sip, trying to pin down whatever it was that was troubling her, but as usual Mr. Lovegood's tea soothed her tumultuous mind. She shrugged, letting it go for now, and returned to the conversation at hand. "Mr. Lovegood, I don't think it's a good idea for me to go to the Burrow tonight." She said, trying to sound firm, like a grown woman who was capable of making her own decisions and not like a emotionally unstable sixteen year old.

The kindness in Mr. Lovegood's eyes was almost unbearable to look at directly. "Padma, you can't hide out here forever. It's been over a month since we came here, and you have not once left. You'll never heal if you don't start to live your life again." He said gently. Padma stiffened, but before she could argue or run away, he continued. "When my Pandora died, I isolated myself, and me and my family suffered because of it." He said, glancing at Luna, who looked sad but supportive. "I didn't want anyone's help or worse, their pity. I just wanted to be as alone as I felt. And I got my wish." He said bitterly, eyes haunted. "And it nearly cost me my daughter. If not for Harry Potter, and sheer dumb luck, my Luna and I would not be sitting here." He said fervently. "But we cannot sit here forever, Padma. We _all_ must begin to live again. I will not let my happiness or the happiness of my daughter rely on sheer dumb luck ever again, when we can take it for ourselves." He vowed.

Padma was silent, diminished under the weight of his words. She was struck with shame at her own selfishness over the past month. She glanced at Luna, who was far too still in her own chair. Little things began to whisper at Padma, things she had noticed but not given a second thought. Like how Luna hardly spent any time indoors, and when she did it was with every possible door and window open, and as much light as possible. How she always sought out Padma's company or her father's, filling any silence longer than a few seconds with chatting or singing or humming. How Mr. Lovegood kept his scars covered with sleeves and armbands, but how he constantly fidgeted with them as if he could hardly stand their presence, like they were restraints themselves.

Luna and her father had been captured and held hostage for months last year. Luna had no physical scars, as a healthy pureblood witch worth more alive and well than hurt or dead. But Padma had no doubt Luna had been scarred and forever changed by her captivity.

Now they were free, but they had taken in Padma, who was in essence a criminal on house arrest. Had her presence imprisoned the Lovegoods yet again, shackling them to her life, half-lived as it was?

Shame swelled inside of her, turning her stomach over and choking her. "I'm so sorry -" she began in a trembling voice, but it was Luna who stopped her.

"No, no, no!" She said strongly, reaching out to touch Padma's arm. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, Padma. Daddy and I absolutely do not regret helping you and we never will. You are my _friend,_ Padma. I _want_ you here. Having you here helps me heal, too. But we need more than just each other."

"We need community, and friendship, and family." Mr. Lovegood affirmed. "Especially now, after the war. The Weasleys have always been good to me and my Luna, even when I was not worth calling a friend. Pandora would have been ashamed and saddened by my actions, and I do not intend to disrespect her memory anymore, or I will be soundly hexed when I get to the afterlife." He said with a fond, proud smile as he spoke of his late wife. Luna giggled, delighted by the anecdote about her mother.

"Therefore," Mr. Lovegood concluded grandly, "If the Weasleys invite us to supper, we will attend. And I think you should too, Padma."

Padma felt her fear all the more sharply in the face of Mr. Lovegood's resolve. "I… I don't know if I can." She said helplessly.

"Yes, you can." Luna said matter-of-factly. "You are a Ravenclaw, Padma, and Headmistress McGonagall claimed you as a Gryffindor. You can do anything."

Despite herself, a smile wobbled its way onto Padma's face. "When you say it, it sounds like it's true." She said. Luna looked pleased.

"How about this," Mr. Lovegood suggested. "I will owl Molly and Arthur and ask if their invitation is extended to you as well. If they say yes, you will come, but if it is at any moment too much for you, we will make our excuses and leave immediately and have some tea and dirigible plum pie. Does that sound like a good plan?"

 _No,_ Padma thought.

"Okay." Padma said.

Mr. Lovegood nodded approvingly, and the next few moments passed peacefully.

But Padma's mind had snagged on something Mr. Lovegood had said, and after mulling it over a bit she decided to broach the subject out loud. "Mr. Lovegood…" she began tentatively, "Do you really believe in the afterlife?"

Mr. Lovegood put down his teacup, looking surprised but thoughtful. "I believe in a great many things no one else does, and probably never will." He mused. "Why then should I not believe in an afterlife, and a good one at that? If I'm wrong, I lose nothing. If I'm right, I gain everything." He smiled. "Do _you_ believe in the afterlife, Padma?" He asked then, posing it like this was simply one of their many academic theory discussions.

Padma looked away, fingering a thin crack that streaked across the side of her teacup, cutting through the hand-painted decorations like a scar. "I don't know." She murmured. "Sometimes living just this one life seems like too much to bear." She said, tracing the chain of Parvati's necklace even as she traced the crack in the teacup. "I don't know if I could handle anything that might come after."

* * *

Afternoon tea ended quite shortly after that, and Mr. Lovegood wasted no time in contacting the Weasley and asking for their express permission for Padma to attend their gathering.

Of course, the ever hospitable Molly Weasley said Padma was welcome and she was more than a little offended that Xenophilius thought he even had to ask, as any guest in his house was a guest in hers, even though she appreciated his manners and wasn't he such a gentleman? Her sons could learn a thing or two from him...

Padma listened to all of this as it came from the Howler she sent (Howler seemed to be her default form of communication even if she wasn't howling, and Padma decided it was a good thing that she wasn't a muggle because the world probably wasn't ready for a Mrs. Weasley with a telephone), a little overwhelmed and touched.

Padma yet again mourned the fact she was underage, because if this was only a taste of what she was in for at a Weasley gathering, she wasn't sure she could get through the event sober.

She mentioned this to Luna, hoping to maybe make the girl smile or laugh because if she was helping Luna heal, she thought she could try humor out. Even if she didn't feel much like smiling or laughing herself, a world where Luna was laughing was a better world for everyone.

Luna did giggle, a balm to Padma's soul, then said thoughtfully. "I seem to remember Ron somehow getting firewhiskey for a party once, or so Ginny told me. Maybe he can give you some."

Padma blinked. "Ron." She had only just begun to prepare herself for interaction with Mrs. and Mrs. Weasley, and though it was probably thick of her she hadn't thought about running into her former classmate.

Luna seemed to know where her thoughts had gone. "I should probably prepare you… Harry and Hermione have been staying with the Weasleys. They'll probably be there tonight, too. I'm very excited to see them, but I know you might not be."

Padma was starting to hyperventilate a little inside at the thought of all these people, but she was determined not to spoil this for Luna. If Luna needed it, she would get through it. "I'm not excited, exactly." She said honestly. "But I think it will be… good."

 _For you, Luna. I'm doing this for you._

Luna beamed at Padma's tentative enthusiasm. "It will be." She assured her. "I know it."

* * *

They apparated onto the Weasley's front lawn, scattering a group of garden gnomes that cursed them and the air blue at the sudden and unwelcome invasion of their territory.

"Oh, look, Daddy, I think that's the gnome that bit me at Bill's wedding!" Luna pointed, delighted. "Maybe he'll bite you too, Padma." She said hopefully, as she skipped after her father towards the front door.

Padma eyed the gnome warily, who looked more like a grizzled war veteran than a lawn ornament. "Maybe…" she said slowly, glaring at him as to clearly communicate _you'd better not._

The gnome grinned viciously at her, his mouth full of broken and discoloured ceramic teeth.

Padma staggered backward as another ruined mouth stretched in a crazed smile flashed through her mind like lightning.

 _Patils! Blood traitors!_

Laughter like howling winds caught her thoughts in a tornado, and lost as she was in a storm of terror, she unconsciously raised her suddenly burning hand towards the perceived threat.

The gnome snarled something at her.

 _Crucio!_

"Get away from me!" Padma screamed desperately, although the words tore from her throats as a hoarse whisper. Fire erupted on her palms and a jagged bolt of magic arced through the air, searing Padma's eyes white.

When her vision cleared seconds later, the memory of Bellatrix no longer held her hostage and she wondered if everything that just happened was a figment of her demented imagination, if not for the complete absence of garden gnomes and the tiny, smoking patch of earth about twenty feet away from her.

"Padma?" She turned toward the fall of warm light from the Weasley's open front door, where Luna and Mr. Lovegood were waiting with a short, plump middle aged woman with with fluffy red hair Padma recognized as Molly Weasley, all oblivious to what had just transpired.

Molly Weasley was fussing endlessly over the Lovegoods, patting Luna's cheeks and squeezing Mr. Lovegood's hand in between her bear hugs. "Luna, just look at you! You're so beautiful and grown up, you look just like your mother! Oh, but you're so _thin,_ child, has your father been feeding you enough? Oh, and Xenophilius, as I live and breathe, it is just so _wonderful_ to see you! We're so happy you could come! Everyone's so excited to see you two… oh, Padma!"

Padma, who had been approaching this intimidating scene of affection rather hesitantly, had finally reached the front door and was promptly pulled into a hug by Mrs. Weasley. She was overwhelmed by the strength of the woman's arms, and the sensation of being warm and safe and surrounded by the smell of baking cookies and clean laundry that quickly banished the shaking of her limbs and slowed her racing heart, the remnants of her flashback fading into dormancy.

It had been so long since she had been hugged like this, as only a daughter can be hugged by a mother, and she felt tears pricking at her eyes.

Mrs. Weasley stepped back before the hug could get to be too much, hands staying soft and strong on Padma's shoulders, hazel eyes bright and rich like honey crinkling at the corners as she smiled at her. "Padma, you dear sweet girl, you have just been through so much more than anyone should and still look at you, so strong and lovely!" She said the words as easily as breathing, as if she really believed them despite not knowing Padma at all, and Padma could only stare at her, overwhelmed.

"Oh, goodness!" Mrs. Weasley suddenly exclaimed, looking upset. Padma froze. "What in heaven's name is wrong with me, keeping you out here on the front step in the cold like you're strangers!" She shook her head at herself.

"Nonsense, Molly, it's a beautiful night to be greeted by a beautiful lady such as yourself." Mr. Lovegood said gallantly.

Padma's eyebrows shot all the way up her forehead in shock. Even Luna looked startled.

"Oh, Xenophilius, you charmer!" Mrs. Weasley laughed, swatting at his arm. "Don't you tease me!" She scolded, wagging her finger at him. Mr. Lovegood smiled bashfully.

"Ah, now that's the ol' Phil Lovegood I remember from school!" Arthur Weasley chuckled as he joined them, an easygoing smile on his jolly face. "You always were popular with the ladies, eh Phil? Spreading that good love around?" He joked but there was a wholesome air about him that took the lewdness from the joke, making it seem simply goofy.

 _Phil?_ Padma mouthed at Luna incredulously, who shrugged as she giggled at her father from behind her hand.

" _Arthur Weasley!"_ Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "You watch your mouth! His daughter is standing _right_ there! You're going to have them think I've raised a family of animals!"

"You're the one who hasn't invited them in yet, darling." He said mildly.

"Oh, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. Padma and the Lovegoods were unceremoniously herded into the house, Mrs. Weasley bustling them into a brightly lit hallway cluttered with what seemed like dozens of shoes and jackets, Mr. Weasley chatting with Mr. Lovegood about something he was tinkering with in his workshop.

"Luna!" Someone cried, and Luna was practically tackled to the ground by a comet with flaming red hair trailing behind.

"Ginny!" Luna said joyfully, returning her friend's hug enthusiastically. Padma stepped back to let them have their reunion so she could take in her surroundings.

She was standing in a spacious living room containing a motley assortment of chairs and sofas and lamps, with an equally varied assortment of people occupying them. Most seemed to be Weasleys, given the abundance of red hair. There was a general air of cheer and a default level of noise, but overall it was rather more subdued than Padma had expected.

Ginny and Luna were being watched with smiles all around, particularly by one group of three people that Padma immediately recognized with a queasy roll of dread.

Hermione noticed her first, light brown eyes widening before she turned and urgently elbowed Ron. "Oi!" He exclaimed. "What was that for, 'Mione?" The brunette rolled her eyes and gestured towards Padma.

Ron glanced over and his own eyes bugged out comically. "Padma!" He blurted out, immediately turned as red as his hair as his reaction attracted the room's attention.

Padma stayed quiet, waiting for them to get their rather dramatic reactions out of the way. _Gryffindors._ Some part of her was able to sigh with familiarity. _Never the most tactful or subtle lot._

"Oh, Padma!" Ginny said with an easy smile on her stunning face, shooting her brother a pointed glare as she reached draw Padma into a quick hug that was almost as unexpectedly pleasant as her mother's, and only the slightest bit awkward. "How are you?" She asked, her face freezing immediately after the words left her mouth, cringing. "Merlin, what a terrible question to ask." She said bluntly. "I'm _so_ sorry. Anyway, welcome to our home, hopefully no one else will embarrass themselves as thoroughly as me and Ron just did." She joked.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think your dad made a dirty joke about my daddy in front of us just now." Luna said cheekily.

"For the love of all that is magical," Ginny groaned theatrically and covered her face. "I _swear_ I'm adopted."

"I _hope_ you're adopted." Ron countered, dodging another elbow thrown by Hermione. He caught the weaponized arm in one hand and drew the bushy-haired Gryffindor into his arms, smacking a kiss on her cheek as her expression went from irritated to blushing.

Padma blinked as Ginny loudly complained about them being gross even as she stepped back towards the final member of the group to lace her fingers with his.

Harry was regarding his friends fondly but with the baffled expression of someone who is still adjusting to a change. So the apparent romance between Ron and Hermione was a new development, then.

Padma found the corners of her mouth lifting a bit. _It's about bloody time._ She thought. According to Parvati and also anyone with eyes, those two had been dancing around each other since second year.

Ginny and Harry were more of a surprise, as she remembered Parvati gossiping about the redhead's allegedly passionate and brief relationship with Dean Thomas, but no one else, even though many boys had admired the brilliant and feisty girl. It was a surprise, but she unobtrusively studied their interaction and saw how Ginny drew him into the conversation with easy affection, not letting him brood. Harry had always been a bit of an outsider during their school years, simultaneously isolated and sensationalized by troubles and tragedy no one had been able to relate to at the time. It was nice to see him like this. He looked lighter, and somehow quieter, as if his ghosts had been laid to rest.

In turn, Harry seemed to ground Ginny. The girl who had been so shy and odd her first year then quickly blossomed into an intimidating force of nature, wild and beautiful; was somehow softer and sweeter but no less bright with Harry. She was both more and less: more herself, but a less guarded version.

It was still surprising, but Padma decided it made sense. She found herself genuinely happy for them, as happy as she could bring herself to be. If anyone deserved to find peace and happiness and normalcy after the war, it was them.

Harry's startling green eyes flickered over to her and when he caught her staring, he paused before offering her an awkward but amiable smile, more of a lifting one side of his mouth than anything else. "Hi, Padma." He said, his voice cutting through his friends' chatter.

Padma sought out Luna's face where she was receiving what looked like a genuinely warm hug from Hermione. Luna gave her an encouraging nod. "Hello," Padma said, trying to sound normal and friendly, but her voice came out soft and shy despite her efforts.

They all seemed to soften at her obvious nervousness, but no one really seemed to know what to say. The silence stretched on, emphasized by the nearby ticking of a clock.

Luna's blinding smile started to fade slightly, and Padma scrambled for something to say before her friend's happiness could be dimmed. "Um," she began eloquently. "I like your house." She blurted. "It has nice… garden gnomes…" she grimaced.

There was a short, painfully silent pause.

Then Luna giggled.

Ron immediately snorted. "Yeah right, Padma, no one likes those bloody gnomes, but at least you've never had to degnome the garden before. Oi, Harry, remember last week when Mum made us do it and that little wanker with the yellow hat managed to get on _my broom_ and _fly around the house?"_

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I remember. I was there." He said drily.

"I wasn't." Luna said helpfully. "I want to hear the story, please."

"Ace!" Ron said, shooting the shorter girl a crooked smile at her eagerness and formal request. "See, this is why we need to have people over more. You tossers know all my stories. I need a fresh audience. So anyway, Luna…" he said, launching into the hilarious but entirely unbelievable story of his and Harry's garden degnoming adventures.

Padma only half listened, simply relieved that the focus was off her. Her presence had been accepted by her former classmates with shocking ease. She wondered if they had even heard about what had happened, what she had been accused of.

She hoped not. Not as to deceive them, but she knew Harry Potter at least a little bit, and she didn't want him to blame himself for her sister's death. He had carried too much on his shoulders for too long. This was hers to carry, and hers alone.

Her hand unconsciously came up to cover her necklaces. Hermione's eyes flickered over to her at the movement and her intelligent gaze zeroed in on the jewelry around her neck. Her eyes flashed with recognition, then with sadness, and Padma remembered Hermione had been Parvati's roommate for a few years. She had probably seen all of her jewelry at one point or another.

A feeling of defiance welled up inside of her, she didn't know why. _Why is that dirty little mudblood eyeing your necklace?_ Something hissed from deep within the chasm inside her. _Does she want to_ steal _it? How dare she!_

Padma was horrified at herself. She had never had a remotely hateful thought about Muggleborns in her entire life, besides the vague notion that she didn't really understand the world they came from, a world without magic.

But _that word_ had never once crossed her mind. What was wrong with her?

Hermione' sad eyes were now troubled and she looked ready to say something, but Padma spoke first.

"Excuse me." She asked the group in general, flushing when their eyes all flew to her. "May I please use your washroom?"

"Sure." Ginny said, oblivious to Padma's turmoil and Hermione's concern. "Down the hall, third door on the right. Do you want me to show you?"

"No, thank you." Padma said quickly. She smiled, trying to look normal and capable of navigating this house without incident. Ginny shrugged and smiled back.

Padma hastened her exit, only slightly aware of Luna quietly asking "How is he?" and Ginny's heavy sigh and reply of, "Not good. He's… he's terrible, actually. You probably won't see him at all tonight."

Padma didn't go to the bathroom, instead she took advantage of everyone's distraction to slip out the front door again. She wasn't leaving, she just needed some air and some distance from the suddenly oppressive amount of people and noise.

She went around the side of the house and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. When she felt somewhat centered again, she very cautiously searched for the source of that shocking ugliness that had surfaced when Hermione looked at her.

She found nothing, only emptiness.

 _That… that wasn't me. That isn't me._ She told herself, refusing to think on it further. It was just a fluke, another messed up thought from her messed up mind.

 _I shouldn't be here._ Padma thought darkly. _I shouldn't be around people._

"...Padma?"

The sound of her name made her eyes snap open, but after a wild look around she realized she was still alone and the voice was coming from the window above her.

The voice that answered was undoubtedly Mr. Lovegood. "...I don't know Molly." He sighed. "I don't know what to do. I was never the best father to Luna when she needed me, and now I'm responsible for _two_ traumatized and hurting girls, one of whom is practically a stranger."

A stern, feminine voice she couldn't quite make out protested.

"No, Molly, it's true." Mr. Lovegood answered who must have been Mrs. Weasley. "I'm not trying to be pathetic, I'm just all too aware of my failings. Still, I'm trying, and I think at least with Luna things are getting better. But Padma… she's the perfect houseguest, of course. Very quiet and clean and perfectly sweet. Not to mention intelligent, we had quite the stimulating discussion about the reliability of wizarding history when it comes to historical events such as the goblin wars or the giant wars… she made some fascinating points about historical bias, particularly European Wizard bias -"

Padma felt something inside her warm at her guardian's praise of her.

"Phil," Arthur Weasley interjected gently. "You were saying, about Padma?"

"I just don't know how to help her, and I don't even know if I can." Mr. Lovegood said heavily. "She's going through something I can empathize with but just can't understand. Her own twin, murdered in front of her, and she wakes up wounded in the hospital wing just to be accused of killing her sister by her former classmates and professors. Then after an utter sham of a trial, she's not found guilty but nonetheless stripped of her wand, her magic, her home, and sent to live with people she barely knows with no assurances of her future beyond a cursory 'we'll be in touch'."

"...just awful!" Mrs. Weasley proclaimed, her voices growing louder and sharper as she got closer to the window Padma was under. "I tell you, the next time I see Kingsley Shacklebolt, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind! Or my wand!"

Padma found herself smiling at Mrs. Weasley's unconditional protectiveness.

"If not for my Luna, I fear the girl you met tonight would be a mere shell, if not dead herself." Mr. Lovegood said bleakly.

Padma's body twitched violently.

"You think she would hurt herself?" Arthur Weasley asked seriously. "Or worse?"

"No… I don't know." Mr. Lovegood said. "She said something today over tea, about life sometimes seeming too much to bear, but I don't think she meant that she was trying to, er, _leave_ it. Besides that, there's been no signs that I can tell, but I'm no healer. She's obviously depressed, though." He sighed again, something deep and sad. "People who have been through what she has… sometimes it gets to be too much. I thought about it, after my Pandora died. Only Luna kept me going. But when I was captured by the Death Eaters, and they told me Luna was dead, I almost - well, it's nothing short of a miracle that I'm still here."

Padma thought of the scars he kept covered, and wondered if they really were from restraints after all.

"Oh, Xenophilius," Mrs. Weasley's voice was thick with emotion.

"I'm - don't worry, Molly, I'm fine now." His voice was muffled. Padma deduced he was receiving one of Mrs. Weasley's hugs. "More than fine. I have my daughter, and my freedom. But I'm not sure if I have myself, sometimes."

"What does that mean?" Arthur asked and Padma could hear Ron in the way he posed the question, but with more kindness than Ron might have managed in his confusion.

"I mean, how am I supposed to help my daughter and Padma when some days I wake up thinking that I'm still in that cell with shackles on my hands and feet, and I can't get out of bed for hours? Or the days where I forget simple things like how to properly make tea or even what day of the week it is? How can I be a good father when I feel like half a man?"

There is a long, heavy silence that Padma feels like a physical weight on her shoulders. Sorrow for Mr. Lovegood wells up inside her like thick, freezing water.

"Here." Mr. Weasley says. A chair scrapes backward and footsteps creak across the floor. A drawer is dragged open and contents are rifled through. The steps return and a chair groans lightly under someone's weight as they sit down. "This is the address of a mate of mine, a cormentor."

"A heart-and-mind healer?" Mr. Lovegood asked, sounding interested and maybe a bit hopeful.

"Yeah. He doesn't live in Britain but since the war is over a lot of healers are travelling back to lend a helping wand. Give him a Floo call, tell him you know me. He's a good man. I think he can help you. At the very least, he's someone to talk to. Talking about it never hurts."

"And you have us, too." Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "If you are ever in need."

"The feeling is mutual, Molly," Mr. Lovegood said warmly, then more quietly, "I believe we are all in need now, more than ever."

Padma escaped from the sorrowful silence that followed as fast as she could; a bird flying songlessly away from its forest home that had been reduced to naught but ashes and scorched earth. The fragmented storm of emotions inside of her blinded her in her flight, and as she rounded a corner and ran right into someone.

Her feet slipped on the thick grass and she nearly fell if not for the hands that caught and steadied her with lightning-fast reflexes before releasing her just as quickly.

Padma skittered back a few steps, apologies and excuses just beginning to fall from her lips when her eyes snagged on the person she had collided with and she recognized him immediately, every last breath of air in her lungs leaving her with the force of being struck by a fist. "George?" She gasped.

George Weasley stiffened at the sound of his name. He looked away from her, long red hair falling over his eyes and a bandage over the place his ear used to be. The sight of it made Padma touch her side. Now they both had wounds that separated them from their identical twins.

Wounds, and their lives.

"No one ever mistakes me for Fred anymore." His voice was an obvious attempt at nonchalance but the words came out bulky and hard, like a stone that was meant to skip over water but sank instead. His eyes cut back to her, dull and uncaring. "Guess you know what that's like, Patil."

Padma couldn't do anything but stare at him for one endless moment. She had only known them from afar, but the Weasley twins had been infamous at Hogwarts, two tall redheaded landmarks among the student body. It was rare to see them without a smile on their faces. Their faces were the kind that wore smiles best, like they were vessels of laughter and life. George almost looked like a stranger to her, as if he was wearing a mask of stone like an old and crumbling statue. He looked as though he had never smiled in his life, and he would never smile again.

(He looked, some distant corner of her memory suggested, like Professor Snape always had.)

The flat, broken emptiness in his face was so hauntingly, intimately familiar to her that she had to avert her eyes.

"No one has mistaken me for Parvati for years." She finally replied, studying her hands and their short, clean nails. Parvati had liked to paint hers or wear henna designs when she could get away with it.

"I reckon wearing different house colors helped the ignorant twinless masses." He said as if he could not care less about anything. "If one day you had switched uniforms, would anyone have noticed?"

"They would have noticed." Padma whispered. "I'm not… she was… we were never the same." She struggled to explain, and wondered why she was even trying to. "Parvati… stood out. I simply… stood beside her."

They were both keenly aware that she didn't sound jealous or bitter, just lost and alone.

"She was the - she was the better one, right?" George said, his voice cracking with sudden emotion and severing the potential cruelty from his words. "You probably joked around your -" he swallowed hard, " _Their_ whole lives, that you were the better half. But now - they're dead and you never told them - they were the better half. And now you're just..."

He cut himself off, as if waiting for something, then when nothing happened he just froze, and his eyes seemed seemed to lose some of their color.

"...Now you're just half." Padma finished, her words an unanswered echo in a cave.

George looked at her sharply, and then his face seemed to thaw and left an expression that heartbreaking in its raw, naked loneliness. "No one has finished my sentences since -" He paused again.

Padma was silent, waiting.

"I always used to be the one to finish our sentences." He said next, and the words hobbled out quick but unsteady, a thought and feeling prematurely born into words. "Now I have to… I have to start and finish them, all on my own, for the rest of my life." Desperation, tired and relentless, eroded his voice. "I don't… I don't know if I can. I don't know if I can be alone."

Padma closed her eyes. She saw a mirror in him, could hear her reflection in his words and she wanted to run away but found herself unable to. "I know." She said.

It was a long time before she could open her eyes again, and when she did he was looking right at her.

"Yeah." He murmured. "I guess you do."

She looked away again at that, but still she did not leave. They stood there in silence, stranded in their grief, with just enough space between them for two more people.

* * *

 **Author's Note: next time, Weasley Family Dinner Part 2!**


End file.
